


When a Fallen Star Finds a Home on the Ground

by LMS (LMS180)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Anya Lives (The 100), Azgeda Clarke Griffin, Betrayl, Blood, Brutality, Canon Universe, Clarke reborn to Klark, Clexa forever, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/F, Feel-good, Feelings, Five Years Later, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Nation - Freeform, Injury Recovery, Jealousy, Loss, Love, Minor Character Death, Polis, Post-Canon, Prophecy, Queer Character, Recovery, Romance, Secrets, Slow Burn, Survival, Time Jump, Treason, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 165,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25756693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LMS180/pseuds/LMS
Summary: 5yrs ago Clarke found herself trying to escape the pain the Mountain’s fall had caused. But the search for solace was cut short when the forest itself proved to be a formidable foe patiently waiting for Clarke to become one with its ground. When Wanheda's title was not strong enough to ward off nature’s course, Clarke found herself in the proximity of someone she promised to kill. Torn between the hate Clarke felt for this betrayer and old feelings she wished could be forgotten, Clarke made a choice. And before she could live with the consequences of her actions, life pulled her down an unforeseen path. Leaving the grounders with only memories of Wanheda's sun kissed hair and the tale of how her fight ended too soon. Today the Skai princess’s story is nothing but a distant memory. One long replaced by curious whispers surrounding Azgeda’s mysterious new Heir, Klark. With a new enemy threatening the Coalition’s Western borders, the Commander had no choice but to summon the 13 clans together. As the clans begin to assemble for the upcoming war, many eagerly await the arrival of Azgeda. This will be their first chance to solve the mysteries surrounding Klark and to see if she truly is the Winter Wolf Azgeda claims her to be.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Clexa - Relationship
Comments: 749
Kudos: 1980





	1. The Task

**Author's Note:**

> With the 100's final season airing, I decided I wanted to pay tribute to Clexa and give these characters the chance to have the story I always wanted them to have. So spending the majority of 2020 in literal isolation I have finished my first 100 piece (yes, that's right, this work is 100% completed!) so I will be updating new chapters each week. Just a couple of things to note:
> 
> 1\. Anya still lives  
> 2\. Azgeda was last to join the coalition (Joining after mountain's fall)  
> 3\. Anything after the Mountain's fall (post-finale of season 2) did not happen. 
> 
> Thanks for the interest in my story, I hope you enjoy reading as much as I have writing!
> 
> P.S: I love visuals, so feel free to check out my instagram page dedicated to this fic. Insta posts will be made a few days before each chapter is posted for a sneak peak of the weekly chapters to follow. @clexa_by_lms 
> 
> XO - LMS

* * *

**When the stars turn to dust;**

**A winter wolf will crawl from the ice.**

**As the sun loses its light;**

**Four giants will breathe new life.**

**When the howl turns to flames;**

**Betrayal will scorch corruption from the earth.**

**But out from the ashes, Azgeda will rise.**

* * *

**_Present Time: Azgeda Capital_ **

**_KLARK_ **

The morning wind dances around Klark as she makes her way towards the training grounds. Over the last few weeks she has noticed the air has been getting cooler and the daylight shorter. She lets a small smirk line her lips as she welcomes the frigid air. She knows what it is foreshadowing: the coldest and harshest months are just around the corner. It’s a crucial time for her clan, the plunging temperatures and winter storms severely limit mobility between villages and Klark only hopes each village leader has been diligent in preparing for what’s to come. In the past, almost entire villages have been lost due to poor leadership.

Klark suddenly feels a tight squeeze in her chest as she remembers what happened in the Village of Allik. It was only two winters ago and was said to be one of the harshest winters Azgeda had ever experienced. Throughout Azgeda many lost their lives; however, what happened in Allik was a tragedy.

Again Klark feels a pang of sorrow. Because of her status, it wasn’t her job to travel to Allik herself – a _seken_ would have been enough – but when she was sitting in the war room and the messenger rushed in with such anguish, Klark volunteered immediately. A decision that caused much disapproval among the generals who all worried about Klark’s safety against the blizzarding winds, but with a wave of a hand she had silenced the vocalized concerns.

A death due to starvation is not a quick one and the images of the Allik villagers’ lifeless, hollowed bodies haunt Klark to this day. Over half of the villagers met their demise and she knew all had suffered.

She remembers walking through the village. The streets were lifeless and had provoked an eerie sensation under Klark’s skin. The evidence of death was everywhere and even in its silence Klark could have sworn she heard the cries of bellowing children; bundled up in their mother’s arms all the while the spirit of death danced through Allik patiently waiting to leave his lasting kiss.

Elijah, Allik’s village leader – a stout man that whispers claimed preferred to spend his days drinking the finest Azgeda vodkas rather than tending to his duties – didn’t understand how the tragedy happened. Or so that was what he had told Klark when she visited.

However, after inspection of his storage sheds and discussion with the remaining villagers, Klark knew Allik’s demise was nothing but a product of Elijah’s own doing. She remembers wanting to cut him down in the in empty streets, but instead decided to patently wait and use Allik as a lesson for Azgeda’s other leaders.

When the solstice festival had commenced to celebrate the changing of seasons, Klark called a meeting of all village leaders. It by no means had been a formal meeting, so she remembers sporting a more casual outfit. A black tunic and slacks underneath her favourite fur cloak that was made from the hide of a great white wolf (her first kill after she was initiated as the leader of the Nia’s elite group, the _bloka_ kom Azgeda) **.** Regardless of the loss in formality Klark still looked fierce that day and her war paint assured that.

Normally warriors don’t wear paint in day to day life; however, all members of the _bloka_ are required to wear paint. It has been whispered amongst the clans that those who paint themselves in the colors of the _bloka_ possess unnatural skill and are gifted with a life of immortality. Klark always shakes her head when she hears such blasphemy as the true purpose of the painted mask is to conceal their identify from spies and other clans.

Klark knows she’s Nia’s protégé when it comes to fighting and battle strategy, but by no means does Klark believe she is immune to immortality. Especially after that fight between the _pauna_ two winters ago that gave Klark humbling scars to prove her humanity. But of course, village tales don’t speak of the gained scars rather the large pelt that drapes over the throne in the war room – a gift Klark gave to gain favor in the eyes of her adoptive mother and that was exactly what Elijah of Allik thought he would be receiving. A gift from the legendary Klark kom Azgeda herself as his reward for saving half of his villagers from death.

Klark remembers how she called Elijah up from his spot amongst the other village leaders to discuss his efforts in Allik. His chest was puffed out and proud as he described the strategies used to mitigate the population loss within Allik.

If any of the other village leaders had glanced at Klark during Elijah’s speech they would not have known the true affect Allik had on her. As always, Klark’s face remained completely void of emotion. Piercing blue eyes full of authority. It no doubt was a terrifying sight for any onlooker. And when Elijah finished his speech the village leaders had clapped praise as he once again puffed his chest awaiting his anticipated reward.

_“Elijah, today you have shared the story of Allik. Let us be reminded that the winters of Azgeda are harsh and long and in order to survive we must be properly prepared. Please come forward to receive your reward,”_ said Klark.

Elijah made his way closer and when Klark nodded a small servant stepped forward yielding a large axe. Gasps filled the room; the axe was a magnificent piece. Its dual blades were forged from the best metals found deep within the mountains of Azgeda. The shaft was of bone and had intricate carvings all along the handle. It was a breath-taking piece, a weapon fit for the Ice Queen herself. When Klark picked it up from the servant the motion further displayed the prowess of the weapon as its weighting appeared flawless.

Klark motioned to Elijah to kneel. She stepped closer to the stout man and spoke, _“Elijah on behalf of the village of Allik I present you with your gift”._ Klark raised the axe and faster than the blink of an eye swung the weapon down. The sound of Elijah’s head hitting the floor filled a shocked room with silence.

With fierce blue eyes, Klark addressed the stunned leaders, _“Let this be a lesson to all, that your villages are the lifeline of Azgeda. To be the strongest clan in the coalition we need strong people. You are the leaders, it is your duty to provide for our warriors, bakers, healers, mothers, fathers, and children._

_A village should not starve and be forced into cannibalism. It is your job to strategize and plan for harsh winters. Should you fail you too will receive the same gift Elijah has been given today. His soul will not be released to the other side by fire, instead his head will be hung from the gates of our capital for all to see. Let this be a reminder to all that I Klark, the daughter of your Haiplana, and second in command to Azgeda promise that any leader who fails their village fails me too. Your rewarded will be my wrath_ ”

“Klark!”

The voice violently pulls Klark out of her memories. She quickly wipes a tear that escaped during her daydream and wonders just how long she’s been sitting there waiting for her opponent to arrive. Klark silently scolds herself for not only letting her guard down to her surroundings but is disappointed in the open display of emotion. Tears are a sign of true weakness and she knows her Mother would whip her for such a pathetic display.

After collecting herself, Klark turns around to the source of the sound and sees Echo jogging up with a sparring sword. Klark lets a small smirk slip to her lips. Of her three siblings Echo is by far her favorite. She is fierce when she needs to be but also is not afraid to show compassion – regardless of their mother’s lessons trying to tell them otherwise. Echo has a sharp tactical mind that complements Klark’s strategic vision and together they are unstoppable in battle.

“Echo _”_

“Ready to get your ass kicked?”

“Such brave words for someone who can barely win!” teases Klark.

Unsheathing her two swords, Klark twirls them in such a way to get the blood flowing to her arms. When Klark had started training after her accident, she took preference to the sword. Nia was so impressed with her ambidextrousness the Ice Queen quickly shoved a second sword into Klark’s left hand and the training, or as Nia called it “retraining” began.

The accident itself happened five years ago; it was an unfortunate fate. And as Klark was told all Azgeda mourned the loss of Klark’s village. But that doesn’t matter much because, well that’s just it, Klark doesn’t remember. She has tried so desperately to recall her early life but unfortunately all her memories before the age of eighteen have simply vanished and she has no recollection of who she once was.

The farthest back she can remember is to the middle of her eighteenth year standing in Nia’s throne room, covered in blood. To say Klark really remembers that memory is modest, it’s fuzzy and vague. She barely can comprehend what happened that day, but the healers say it was a result of the accident. Regardless, Klark is thankful for Nia’s teachings as her adoptive mother has helped Klark find an identify for herself as whoever she was before has vanished from Klark’s mind.

“ _Clank!”_ their weapons clash and Klark zones back in. This is the second time today she has lost focused. Klark makes a mental note that she needs to mediate today, or at least try to regain her focus. She can’t afford to be anything less than perfect, not with her upcoming responsibilities as her title demands her best.

_Swish!_ Echo’s spear spins and makes its attack directly at Klark. Effortlessly Klark blocks it and swipes at her sister with her other sword. Echo is an exceptional warrior, especially with a spear. Many consider her to be one of the Azgeda’s best. In the earlier days of Klark’s “reprogramming” – as Nia has called it – Echo could easily beat Klark, but as the days progressed the fights eventually turned to Klark’s favor.

Nia’s training has consisted of long hours full of harsh methods and brutality. In fact, Klark has yet to miss a day of training since she has recovered from the accident. In the first stages of her reprograming Klark practically lived in the healer’s tent and her once smooth skin is now littered with old scars to prove it. Each scar reminds Klark of past mistakes and she has used these wounds as a reminder never make the same mistakes twice. Especially since Nia has never believed in a friendly spar.

Regardless of the opponent, each fight has always been a fight to the death. No matter how broken, hungry, or weak Klark was when she stepped in Nia’s ring Klark needed to fight flawlessly, that is if she wanted to survive. And because of such methods Klark has become a feared warrior.

What makes Klark such a deadly opponent is her fighting style; it is like no other grounder style, or so she has been told. The healers tell her it’s probably a result of the accident, regardless Klark doesn’t care where her fighting style came from, she just wants to remain undefeated.

In fact, only a fool would challenge Klark in an actual battle; Klark’s reputation precedes her throughout the 13 clans. Whispers can be heard about the legend of the _wintam pakstoka_. Azgeda’s winter wolf, who’s immortal shadow guards the helm of Azgeda. Eyes so piercing blue that warriors become paralyzed if they dare to hold her gaze. It is also said the winter wolf has never lost a battle, holding a kill list so long that many say she possess the power to swing the fate of a battle into her favour. Travellers have even reported hearing melodies from different corners of the coalition that declare once again the spirit of death has found its new Commander.

In Azgeda however, the rumours are a slightly different. None would doubt that their heir is the new Wanheda, but the emphasis resides on how Klark will fulfill the ancient prophecy. For generations this prophecy has been recited, almost prayer like, amongst villages in efforts to offset the harsh living conditions with a sense of hope for a better future. This is something Nia has used as a propagandic agenda and all worship Klark as the wolf who will lead Azgeda into greatness.

It is no secret that the people love Klark; however very few have seen her with a clean face or natural coloured hair. It is rare to see Klark without her warpaint, only those most trusted by Nia have seen Klark’s natural features – and Nia intends to keep it this way. In fact, all four members of the _bloka_ must sport black and white paint on their entire face and down along their neck. The only distinct features between the four members is how each has chosen to authenticate themselves with accents of white paint.

Ontari’s white design replicates the same tear streaked pattern of the Commander. The reason for Ontari’s choice in design is unbeknownst to Klark who has yet to decide herself if the imitation stems out of jealousy or admiration. Demetri has chosen to use the white to resemble a skull and Echo has opted for a much simpler design and uses the white paint to highlight her lips. Klark on the other hand prefers a little more of a dramatic flare as she shades white claw marks that start at the bottom of her cheeks and extend to her lower jaw. Her design looks like oversized teeth and since her coronation a few years ago has added two small blue lines underneath her eye to signify her status.

Putting the face paint on has become almost like a beauty regimen, but Klark doesn’t mind the time she must allocate to her mask as she has found that she enjoys the way the kohl and paints feel between her fingers. However, one time she ended up getting carried away and made the mistake of using her Kohl to draw her favourite horse whose name had been Wellston.

The moment Klark had met Wellston they instantly shared a special connection. The horse was gentle and reserved yet had carried himself with a confident stride. Ontari had laughed at the name Klark picked and stated that Wellston did not necessarily scream intimidation for battle, but Klark didn’t care. To this day Klark is still unsure where she had gotten the inspiration for the name too. At the time Wellston felt like someone she once knew, someone she probably trusted and loved, but Klark hasn’t put much more thought into it. She has decided that dwelling on memories that are out of reach deters her focus from the present. And maybe this was why Nia had punished Klark when she had caught painting a picture her horse.

Nia had spared no patience as she ripped up the picture and told Klark if she ever caught her sneaking off to draw instead of training Nia would cut all her fingers off and feed her to the wolves. At first Klark thought Nia’s threats had been empty, but when she reached the stables later that day, she found Wellston slaughtered into an unrecognizable pile of meat. Ever since then, Klark has yet to draw. 

“ugh!” Klark disarms Echo and places her two swords near the nape of her neck.

“Do you yield?!”

“Yes!”

Klark lets a small smirk meet her lips, but quickly retracts her smile and scolds herself for loss of composure. She hears the voice of Ardeshir, Azgeda’s most feared assassin lecture her from past teachings, _“Klark, you must never show emotion during a battle, even if it is a simple spar. You may lose control or worse off an opponent may sense your feelings and manipulate them to make you lose focus. For example, what if during a battle the enemy strikes down one of your siblings? If you respond with emotion, you may let anger drive your movements for an attack when at that moment you should be preparing for the defense. Emotions will narrow the view of a battle and by losing composure you’re only setting up your demise”._

Klark feels a tinge of guilt. This is the third time today she has let her teachings slip. She needs to focus especially with the planned campaign south. She in charge of too many to let her discipline slip.

“Wait Echo, how long have we been here?”

“Hmmm maybe five candle marks?”

“I’ve let the time slip away from us! I had promised to meet Nia and she’s not going to be happy that I am late. I hear she is already in one of her moods!” and with that Klark takes off with in a sprint towards the throne room.

* * *

**_JULIUS_ **

His trolly comes to a halt as warriors begin to eagerly unpack the first wagon of Julius’ delivery into the armory. With the army due to travel south, Julius was not surprised when a messenger came into his shop and handed him a heavy bag of silver and an extensive list of the new armory required. The _kwin’s_ order had been exhaustively long and from its vast size, Julius was not sure if he could deliver the request on time. Much to his relief, the final stitch was sewn into the last leather breastplate this morning.

“The remaining wagons will be coming shortly,” said Julius to one of the warriors. “Should _Kwin_ Klark or General Beorn have any reservations of the quality of my work, please send a messenger.”

As Julius walks back down the hall his attention is immediately captured at the sight of _kwin_ Klark weaving in and around the warriors and political advisors scattered throughout the palace’s cold and stony courtyard walkways. As always, her face is void of emotion and many curious eyes glance towards _kwin_ Klark as if longing to receive a few seconds of acknowledgement.

To observe Klark from afar is enough of a tale to garnish audiences around the campfires back at one’s village. Even from the examination of her strides now, any on looker would know just how dangerous she truly is. All steps are carefully placed, planned, and precise. From the way she carries herself, Julius can only imagine she is always prepared to attack or defend herself if necessary.

Klark is covered in the finest armor of all Azgeda. An exquisite display of her royalty and importance. From the way her tunic and slacks have remained wrinkled free, it is likely that this fabric was imported from the best trader in Polis. The Fabric’s rich charcoal color complements the paint that covers her face and neck. Julius smiles slightly when he notices the snow-white leathers wrapped protectively around her arms and torso. From its design there is no doubt that this is a piece crafted by Julius himself.

Julius started learning his trade at a young age when his uncle’s keen eye saw his potential. For his youthfulness he was an exceptional protégé and now at the age of forty-six, his skills are sought from all corners of the coalition. Even the Commander herself has a few of his prized pieces.

Julius remembers the day _kwin_ Klark walked into his shop to request his talents. It was the first time he’d met the young heir and she was smaller than he had expected. Her dark, red hair was pulled tight into an intricate sequence of braids and she wore her blue sash that sat underneath her pauldren – a statement piece crafted from the skull of a wolf, which Julius found very fitting for the heir who is known as the winter wolf.

Julius remembers quivering inside when his eyes rested on her dual blades. The weapons’ cost was no doubt more than his years wages since the blades’ distinctive shine gave evidence that they were forged with the strongest metals of Azgeda. A metal so rare it is can only be found deep within the Illok caves and requires a special blacksmith to work with the substance. In fact, Julius only knows of two who are talented enough to work with such material.

However, the most unexpected memory of _kwin_ Klark was when she was being fitting for her armor she had asked about his family. Julius felt shy at first, but she had commanded him to speak true and he opened up. Julius had discussed the hardships his village was facing and how many, including his own small children, were suffering. Klark’s stoic expression made him feel like he had overstepped; however, the next day when he returned home from his shop, wagons of food were being passed out by local warriors. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe not, but after that day Julius believes Azgeda is lucky to have her as their future Queen. _Kwin_ Klark’s icy stare may be chilling, but Julius suspects there is much more warmth behind the strong façade than the redhead lets on.

* * *

**_NIA_ **

In unison the two guards push open the heavy doors to the war room. The old wood creaks under the wood’s weight, announcing Klark’s entrance. Removing her attention from the maps scattered across the long stone table, Nia looks up at her daughter.

Nia is proud of the version of Klark she created. She remembers hearing the reports from her spies about a blonde Skai Heda who was full of vigor and possessed a sharp strategic mind. At first Nia scoffed off the reports, but soon Clarke proved herself legendary when she took down the mountain and Wanheda took her first breath. Nia remembers thinking how she wanted nothing more than to steal Clarke, slit her throat, and harness the power of Wanheda for herself. As she believed such power was be the key to fulfilling the Azgedian prophecy and rise her nation to ultimate power.

However, there had been a slight problem. At the time, Azgeda was not yet part of the Commander’s coalition. And Azgeda’s warriors couldn’t be caught sneaking around the other clans looking for the Skai princess. If they had been caught breaking the peace treaty the Commander would have seen Azgeda as a threat and declared war. Not that Nia was afraid of war, but at the time war with the other clans was too premature. So she needed to obtain her prize using other methods and the only way Nia could achieve this was to become the thirteenth clan.

Nia had summoned all her advisors and generals to the capital to discuss the logistics of joining the Commander’s pack of mindless rats. And after weeks of eyerolling meetings and a few necessary decapitations later she eventually appointed Chester (a man who possessed a certain charisma and a strong knack for politics) to take the brand and act as Azgeda’s ambassador in Polis.

It was not long after the mountain had fallen that Nia herself had accompanied Chester on the long journey to Polis. Their travel party had consisted of twenty warriors – hand chosen for their intimidating stature – and a few healers and other advisors. The journey was much slower than normal due to the wagons overflowing with goods as it had been Nia’s intent to showcase Azgeda could offer more than just trouble and distrust.

The wagons were stocked with the finest vodkas, furs, foods, and weaponry all forged with precious metals from the Illok mountains. It was an impressive fleet and Nia timed the delivery just right. Exactly one month after the fall of the mountain her party rolled into Polis. As she had suspected, all clan leaders were still in the city, high off victory, and attending the longwinded celebrations.

She remembers doubting Polis would be a warm welcome. It had been up to one person’s word and Nia had concerns that the bitch of a Commander would not even consider accepting Azgeda as the 13th clan especially after their shared history, but of course Alexandra had taken the bait. In Polis Nia knelt before the young Heda for all the other 12 clan leaders to see. And when Chester held out his forearm to take the brand, Azgeda officially claimed the 13th seat at the Commander’s table and the first step to filling the prophecy had been made.

Nia had used the celebrations as a distraction and through sheer luck, Wanheda fell right into her hands. Except her plans took a drastic turn when Clarke had her unfortunate accident. Nia likes to think of herself as an adaptable leader, so she decided her plans for Wanheda could be adapted as well. And as the legend of Wanheda started to fade away and tears stopped flowing for the lost Skai princess, the whispers of the winter wolf soon started to swirl fear in the hearts of men.

Nia feels a small smirk begin to curl across her cold chapped lips; she is a mastermind. Ever since she has sat on the throne, Nia has manipulated the pieces of the ground’s game in her favor. Her work with Klark has been nothing but exceptional. She has molded a tragic turn into a masterpiece and the girl before her will be the key to Nia’s greatest desire: absolute of power.

Meeting the gaze of her little winter wolf Nia notices how Klark’s eyes are so willing, so eager to please, but at the same time the authoritativeness behind the stare reminds Nia so much of herself. 

“So tell me my little wolf, do you remember your teachings?” questions Nia

“ _Sha_ , my Queen”

Nia steps closer to Klark eyeing her up head to toe. In a few days she will be sending Klark off on her first journey outside of Azgeda’s boarders since the accident five years ago. For five years much energy has been poured into the propaganda of Klark, Azgeda’s winter wolf. And now Nia needs the reassurance that the old Clarke will not be coming back.

“Do you remember how you became my daughter?”

“Yes, my Queen. I--”

“Please Klark, call me mother. It is just you and I in this war room, there is no need for such formalities at this time.”

Klark’s shoulders relax slightly as she makes her way to the seat across from Nia. Looking at her mother Klark begins to recite a story she has been reminded of countless times.

“My village was destroyed by invaders when I was eighteen. I lost everything that day, my family, my friends and my first love. I only escaped because the invaders thought I was dead from the large gash in my head. When I woke up in the throne room covered in blood, I didn’t know where or who I was, but Nimera was there to quickly sedate me. Her calming face is the furthest memory I have in my life.”

Klark clenches her jaw and Nia can almost feel the anger sparking in Klark’s own chest. The story itself is true, but Klark’s plotline in Ironoak’s demise is nothing more than Nia’s own well-crafted lie. The illusion of the heir’s origins has been bought by Azgeda, including Klark herself. The gruesome imagery Nia has painted over the years has stirred a deep hatred in Klark as Klark believes everything she has once loved has been taken by a group of people driven by entitlement. Ironoak did indeed succumbed to tragic fate and the most convenient detail for Nia is that many believe the Commander turned a blind eye and failed to intercede when one of her clans violated the peace treaty held in place with Azgeda.

Of course, Klark doesn’t remember the attack, but Nia has been sure to remind her just who was responsible for the merciless act: a clan who fell from the sky. At the time of the attack, Nia remembers being intrigued about the details coming from the scouts. At first, she thought it was a trick, but then more reports came. After Ironoak’s slaughter, her trackers eventually tailed the group long enough to learn the invaders called themselves a farm station. Not a very intimidating name, but when Nia had inspected the horrific wounds caused by their weaponry Nia decided to let them pass through Azgeda and into the Commander’s lands without further confrontation.

The generals of course, had protested shouting _Jus drein jus daun,_ but the Nia reminded them that in order to have seek proper revenge they must be alive to do so. ‘ _Patience,’_ she had reassured them, _‘have I ever let you down? Trust me when I say our ancient prophecy is in the midst of becoming fulfilled. Patience and I promise once the wolf howls we will see Jus drein jus daun repaid in tenfold’._

Nia herself has always hated the Skaikru. It has been over five years since they made a home on _her_ ground. Over the years, the Commander’s apparent favoritism for the parasite of a clan has always gotten on Nia’s nerves. However, with the ironic twist of Klark’s shared hatred for the Skai people, Nia finds she can tolerant the vermin a little more.

Nia turns her attention back to Klark. The girl appears to be lost in thought, but unlike the stoic expression Klark had on earlier, her face is now darkened with sadness. The shift in Klark’s demeanor flips Nia’s stomach with excitement. This is the precise moment Nia has been waiting for. Klark’s usual presence is one of stone, possessing impeccable control over emotions. Yet in this moment Nia can tell Klark’s walls are unguarded as a rare vulnerability has emerged. There has yet to be such an opportunity to manipulate Klark into Nia’s favor.

“Klark my dear,” Nia runs her fingers along the young heir’s cheek. Nia is not sure that this is a comforting act, but she’s watched other mothers in the capital do this, so she feels like this action would be considered a motherly one. As Klark leans further into her for comfort, Nia cannot help but smile at how effective her deception is.

“Klark, I know the aguish you are feeling inside. Although I have never lost memories, I have suffered the loss of those I once loved too. When the Commander marched her armies North, I had no choice but to surrender. The bloodshed was too much for my heart to bare so I had sent for messengers to meet the Commander to propose a truce.

During the negotiations she offered me the opportunity to become the twelve clan of the coalition. Yet I had refused. I didn’t trust the Commander and felt that she had ulterior motives. So, to keep Azgeda fully autonomous I proposed a peace treaty instead.

Of course, a peace treaty is not as binding so many of Alexandra’s advisors had been suspicious of my motives. However, much to my surprise she accepted with only one condition. She would give us our peace treaty in exchange for Roan’s head. If I remember the Commander’s words correctly it was ‘ _a head for a head’_ ”

Nia lets her lip quiver slightly as a tear slips down her face, an act of course, but nonetheless it’s a believable one. Truthfully, Nia had never cared about the loss of Roan. She remembers thinking how his death was rather unfortunate, but it was a necessary one. The man was her only true son, but he was a disgrace. He was too caring and too compassionate; weak minded that had been full of so much unnecessary emotion. Yes, he had promise of a fearless warrior, but his lack of leadership skills would have been his downfall. Roan’s loss may have ended her bloodline, but Nia had taken matters into her own hands and found others more suited for succession – the _bloka_ kom Azgeda.

Due to her age, Nia knew she would not have any more children, so she sought adoption. A few years after Roan’s death she sent out her fastest riders to all corners of Azgeda. Their mission had been quite simple, yet one of upmost secrecy. If she remembers correctly her orders were short and to the point: “ _find me the next heir of Azgeda. They must be promising warriors if you bring me a healer you will lose you head. If you bring me a baker your tongue will be ripped from your mouth. If you bring me teacher, you will be flayed alive. I will accept nothing but the best of my new children. And if you find the perfect candidate who belongs to a family… well I trust you know what to do”_.

The riders had brought Demetri first. He was a towering boy with abnormally large muscles for his age. He had been rescued from a wildfire that unexpectantly swept into his village – his family conveniently succumbed to the flames. Then came Echo, she was a true orphan. She lived in the village of Nashar, a smaller establishment near the border of the Woods clan. Echo had lost her family to the mountain after her parents went searching for her runaway sister. Then came Ontari.

Ontari’s family lived in the caves near the mines of Illok. Conveniently one of Nia’s riders had discovered she was a night blood after he witnessed Ontari’s opponent cut deep into her arm during a morning spar. Shortly after Ontari’s whole clan was killed after a pauna viciously attacked the caves – or so that’s the story Nia riders have invented. 

Ontari had been Nia’s best kept secret until Klark came along to become the fourth and final member of the _bloka_. Sure, Ontari will soon serve her purpose, but unlike Klark she isn’t heir material. Which is why Nia has gone great lengths over the years to ensure Clarke will only be remembered as Klark, the winter wolf sprung from the ice. 

“So you see Klark. I may never be your birth mom, but my love for you and your siblings runs just as deep as it did for Roan,” said Nia wrapping her arms around Klark. “A mother never lets her children’s pain go unpunished. Together we will seek justice for your loss. They will pay, but in time my child. We must have patience for _Jus drein jus daun._ Do you understand what I am saying my little wolf?”

Klark nods, turning her face slightly away from Nia. Nia observes Klark’s bashful reaction and knows her deception is working well. It is evident Nia’s words have touched Klark and once again Nia smiles with pride that she has successfully fabricated a sense of maternal connection. When Klark composes herself, Nia knows it’s time to plan. Reaching forward she carefully unfolds the worn maps across the stone table.

“As you can see Klark the distance to the Glowing Forest will be great and it will be full of firsts. Not only will this be the first time you leave Azgeda’s boarders, but this is also the first time Azgeda will march alongside the Commander’s army and not against it.” The mention of the Commander twists Klark’s face into a hateful scowl – causing Nia to celebrate another silent victory before continuing. “Since the mountain, we have lived in peace, but now an unknown threat wreaks havoc on the Glowing Forest’s Western boarders. Let this be our time to show the clans _who_ they should really fear.”

Nia has spoken true. This will be the first time Azgeda has marched with the Commander and not against her. Even though Azgeda is part of the coalition, Nia has kept many polices that keep the Ice nation an isolated, unwelcoming place to other clans. In fact, many still view Azgeda as the problem child, a clan lessor developed and more savage than the rest. Other than traders, Azgeda does not see many visitors which means the monstrous size of Nia’s army has never been confirmed by an outsider – that is until now.

Intimidation is a must and if the vast size of her army doesn’t achieve this, she knows her royal children will. For the last five years Nia has used her means to plant whispers amongst the clans about the _bloka_. Many stories started out small, but as they were passed from village to village the claims about the _bloka_ have become so over exaggerated, the arrival of the Nia’s divine gods is highly anticipated. 

“They will know who to fear,” said Klark. “This is biggest army Azgeda has ever assembled. Surly we out number any other clan three to one. I promise you mother I will win you the respect you deserve.”

“And I will not accept anything less,” replies Nia. “Have you discussed with the other generals the logistics of the deployment?”

“Yes. I suspect that in two days our entire army will be gathered. I agree with General Leo that the fastest route will be directly south through the top half of the Trikru’s boarders before cutting south west into the Blue Cliff territory. I have also spoken with Nimera and she has agreed to provide us twenty-five healers to ensure the health of our army.

Once we set up camp in the Glowing forest territory, I will take the opportunity to introduce myself to the clan leaders. I have done extensive research on each leader and it is my plan to present them all with fitting gifts. I believe this is the best way to see who is receptive of us and who still sees us as a threat. Allowing us to see who would be most responsive of furthering trade routes or forming stronger alliances.”

Nia nods in a rare sign of approval, “Good. If everything goes as planned, we will need to make sure we have these strong alliances.”

“Is there any other task you wish me to accomplish on my journey my Queen?”

Nia listens to Klark’s question carefully. Klark is planning to play the perfect political game. However, maybe the prophecy that had been told to Nia this morning is right, there’s no more time for planning. It’s time to start moving the pieces around on the ground. Nia’s mouth twists into a wicked grin as a small chuckle escapes from her pale lips.

“Why yes, my little wolf, there is one thing I ask of you,” said Nia as her once faux maternal demeanor morphs into one feral with vengeance. “Perhaps I have changed my mind. As the witch prophesized to me this morning, I think it is time for us to start seeking our _jus drein jus daun._ After the war has been won, I want you to bring me the head of the Commander.” 

* * *


	2. The Watcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking a step back into the past, Chapter II begins to unfold the story of Clarke's journey post mountain. Picking up fourteen days after the fall, Clarke quickly learns what it will take to survive on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I just wanted to say thanks for all the lovely feedback I received with the first chapter - you are all too kind! 
> 
> Secondly, I have been asked to update more frequent than once a week. Due to the length of this story and the different characters that will soon be introduced, I agree that this is a good suggestion. So going forward chapter postings will happen Sunday and Wednesdays. If you are itching for sneak peaks, remember to check out instagram @clexa_by_lms. A few days before each drop, the upcoming chapter art and its summary will be posted. 
> 
> And lastly, I know what some of you are thinking - Oh no, not another Clarke in the wilderness chapter. If this is you, hang in there! As you read in ch.1 we got a lot of ground to cover, so I assure you Clarke will not be sulking in the forest for more than a chapter. Clarke’s got more exciting places/people to see in the next chapter. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy xo - LMS

**_5 years ago: Trikru Territory_ **

_14 days after the fall of Mount Weather_

**_LYRA_**

Lyra looks across the forest’s dark green canopy. All is quiet except for the soft rustle of leaves gently swaying with the wind. The sun, however, is not so pleasant. From her position high up in the trees, the sun’s rays are painfully sweltering. When a cool breeze brushes across her burnt shoulders, Lyra cannot hold back a small praise to the spirits. 

She pulls out her note pad and counts the tick marks etched lightly into the tattered paper. It has already been two weeks. Two weeks of living high up in the trees silently stalking the girl below. Slipping the notepad back into her bag, Lyra looks down with worried eyes. Like yesterday, it appears today will be another difficult day for Wanheda.

Lyra may be a young warrior, but she still can recognize the signs of extreme fatigue and Wanheda is showing almost every symptom. Dark circles and sunken cheeks plague the girl below and as the days progress Lyra finds Wanheda’s choices dangerously irrational.

Yesterday Lyra almost broke her orders when she saw Wanheda inch closer to the ledge of the cliff. She’s still not sure what Wanheda planned on doing up there, but the sounds of her anguished sobs haunted Lyra’s sleep last night. If anything, Lyra is thankful Wanheda stepped back when she did as Lyra was close to intervening. Lyra was concerned she would try going up to the ledge again but fortunately Wanheda collapsed into deep sleep instead.

That event happened over fifteen sun movements ago or like the Skaikru prefer to say fifteen hours. Wanheda is still lost in a deep in sleep, but Lyra has yet to see her remain so motionless for this long. It is an unnerving sight. Especially since she cannot see Wanheda’s chest moving anymore. Instantly worry overtakes her. 

Quietly Lyra lowers herself to ground level near Wanheda’s motionless form. Just when she thinks Wanheda’s spirit has decided to move on, Lyra’s attentive eyes catch the small, shaky compressions of a chest. Relief washes over her. Checking one more time to make sure Wanheda is safe, Lyra climbs back up to the canopy to continue her mission.

When she was first informed of her mission, Lyra wasn’t sure what to expect from the Skai Heda. She had never met the girl personally before – which would be expected since warriors of Lyra’s rank never interact with other clan leaders – but Lyra did often observe the Skai Heda from afar when the Skaikru had been in Ton DC.

From her initial observations, Lyra remembers thinking that the Skai Heda seemed different than the other leaders. Lyra could tell she was smart and portrayed a deep care for her people, but due to her strange clothes and _Maun_ like weapons Lyra had felt wary of the new Skai Heda and her people.

But now high up in this tree Lyra finds the more time she spends watching, the more she feels like she knows the Skai Heda at a personal level. Lyra has even caught herself mentally referring to her as Clarke. To be honest, she feels guilty that she is witnessing Clarke’s vulnerability without her knowledge. There has been many times Lyra has wanted to let Clarke know that she is not alone in the forest’s thick landscape (especially when Clarke is being tormented by her reoccurring night terrors) but knows that is strictly against orders.

Lyra has heard about the legends of such terrors. Many say the trauma haunts until the soul welcomes its own death. Seeing Clarke heading down such a dark path pains Lyra’s heart. Even if she could assist Clarke, Lyra would be useless because she knows nothing about matters of the soul. Such problems require the gifts of the wise _oudas newana._

A small rustle in the long grass below jerks Lyra’s head around towards the noise. She quickly notches an arrow in her bow and with cation searches for the source of the sound. Adrenaline flows through her veins giving her the strength to hold steady the drawn bow. She readies to meet her unknown target. Her posture relaxes when the culprit comes into view; a small deer, barely two seasons, prances out from the underbrush and into the afternoon sun.

For a moment she considers shooting the deer and laying it at the Skai princess’s feet. Lyra shakes her head reminding herself of her orders. She remembers the day she was summoned into the War room. She had been out in the streets of Polis celebrating the unexpected fall of the _Maun_.

Polis had exploded with cheers when the Commander arrived home with many fatigued warriors once lost to the claws of the _Maun_. Lyra thought the return of lost family made Polis the happiest she had ever seen it. She was quickly proven wrong when days after the Commander’s return Trikru scouts galloped through the gates, wide eyed and shouting for Heda. As soon as Heda delivered the news the streets came even more alive with celebrations.

Music and dancing quickly overran the streets and the pounding drums vibrated a steady rhythm into her chest. Lyra remembers looking over to her friends and letting out a genuine smile. This was the first time she felt weightless. There was no more looming fear of the Mountain. They were truly free.

However, the next thing that happened will stick with Lyra for the rest of her life – even high up in this forest canopy she can still feel shivers run down her spine. It had started off with just a small whisper to her left: “ _Wanheda…”_

Soon the chant begun to crescendo until all of Polis chanted the name of their redeemer, “ _Wanheda, Wanheda, Wanheda.”_. When the chant was at its peak, Lyra remembers turning her attention to the highest balcony of Polis. There an onlooker had stood, jaw clenched, and knuckles white as if holding on for dear life. Then less then a candle mark later, Lyra found herself being ushered through the large doors of the Commander’s war room.

The room itself was magnificent to say the least. It housed one of the largest tables Lyra had ever seen. The mahogany colored wood held the symbols of the 12 clans, each carved delicately into its edges. Lyra remembers how her eyes followed the burgundy carpet that lined the pathway to the most intimidating item in the room, the Commander’s throne. The throne’s wood was twisted in such a way it resembled antlers. It was a magnificent piece, one that presumably took the wood workers months to complete. Lyra recalls how the sound of the doors opening caused her to instinctively fall into a deep bow. The Commander, flanked by her most trusted generals, Indra and Anya, found her rightful seat on the throne.

 _“Rise Lyra kom Trikru.”_ The Commander’s voice was sharp and to the point.

 _“I am here to serve you Commander. My blade is yours.”_ Lyra replied

_“I have been told that you are a promising second. One who has shown admirable talents in tracking? Have I heard true?”_

Lyra could not help but blush. It was true, she’s one of the only _seken’s_ trusted to scout by themselves. Although she has yet to master the stealth of an Azgeda assassin, she has proved she has a knack for finding those who do not wish to not be found.

_“Sha Heda, so I’ve been told.”_

The Commander shifted her weight slightly on top her throne. The intense emerald stare eyed Lyra up and down as if the Commander were deciding if she could really trust Lyra’s youth. As the minutes had passed, Lyra remembers feeling uncertain as to why she was there. After what felt like an eternity, the Commander eventually broke the gaze and glanced up to General Anya who had given a nod in return.

_“Very well. I need you to understand what I am about to say does not leave this room; do you understand Lyra?”_

_“Sha Heda”_

_“As you are aware Wanheda has restored freedom to Polis. She has… sacrificed her soul so our people can dance freely in the streets. And to this we will be forever indebted,”_ said the Commander. _“But this is not what troubles me.”_

The movement of the Commander’s dagger had come to a stand still. Lyra remembers observing how the Commander’s jaw had slightly clenched before she continued.

_“Soon we will host the Azgeda nation as guests in Polis. They have expressed interest in becoming the 13 th clan and I have granted them the audience they wish.”_

The news had caused Lyra’s eyes to widen. She had heard the rumours about the Ice Nation. Their vast boarders that stretched across enormous territories. Conditions so cold, it is said that their blood runs thick to survive the ice. Known only for cruelty and selfishness they should never be trusted. Treacherous tales describing how blood thirsty warriors have even ate the remains of dead enemies in a celebration of victory. Shivers raced up her spine.

_“It is no secret that the Ice Queen has a certain lust for power. Her spies have no doubt already reported to her about Wanheda’s role in the Mountain. Which reminds me young goufa, are you familiar with the legend of the Commander of death?”_

Lyra offered an eager nod.

_“If I accept the Ice Nation as my 13 th clan they will be granted the right to move freely across my boarders. Can you see how this situation may become problematic for a hiding Wanheda?”_

Lyra’s breath hitched once again in her throat piecing together the Commander’s words. If the Commander accepted the Ice Nation’s proposition, nothing, not even the Commander could stop the Queen from seeking out the power of Wanheda for herself. Lyra flashed her gaze to the Commander’s. For a second, she could have sworn it held a flicker of sorrow, but when Lyra had looked again, the Commander’s face was once again void of emotion.

_“Sha Heda. And you wish me to find Wanheda and bring her back to you so you can have the power of death for yourself?”_

_“No. I wish you to seek her out, but only to remain in the shadows. There is a reason Wanheda has chosen to remain hidden and we must honour it. However, I cannot let her fall into the hands of someone who wishes to do her harm. You mustn’t intervene unless absolutely necessary Lyra, do you understand.”_

_“Sha Heda.”_

_“Good. Your mission will only end until she either returns to the Skaikru or she’s safe within the walls of Polis where her protection can be guaranteed. Now, go quickly young one! A supply bag is already waiting at the gates for your departure. I have personally ensured it requires all you need.”_

_“Thank you Heda. I promise I will make Polis proud.”_

“ _Lyra…”_ Lyra’s quick steps towards exit immediately halted. _“Remember she must decide to return to Polis on her own free will.”_

_“Sha, Heda as you command.”_

* * *

_18 days after the fall of Mount weather_

**_CLARKE_ **

Morning rain splashes on Clarke’s sunburnt cheeks pulling her from her deep sleep. She’s thankful for the cool relief but the dampness of her only shirt quickly reminds her that cotton material is poor for wicking away moisture. Clarke sighs, crawling under a tree’s branches in retreat.

She wishes that she would have prepared for this, well whatever this is, a little better. She had never planned to banish herself into the wilderness. In fact, she only made the rash decision once she saw the gates of Camp Jaha. When she tried to step over the threshold of its boundaries her feet wouldn’t move. It was then Clarke realized she wasn’t prepared to face the people of the Ark.

Clarke lets a cold chuckle slip from her lips. Nothing could have prepared her for this life on the ground. She was not prepared for the pain she felt when she laid Wells to rest or the fearful eyes she saw when she had slipped her knife into Finn. She was not prepared for the burden of leadership when she forged an unimaginable alliance. And she was not prepared for the scars of betrayal when _she_ turned her back. Choosing head over heart.

Clarke knows these memories are awful, but she would rather relive any of those moments tenfold if it meant losing the heaviness currently pressing into her chest. Nothing could have prepared her for the weight of the hundreds of souls silenced by her hand. Every time she closes her eyes, she can see their lifeless bodies burnt beyond recognition. A Trikru warrior had once told her that for a soul to find peace in the underworld, its host body must be burnt in the ritual. Otherwise it is gets stuck between worlds. Wandering day and night searching for peace.

Clarke chuckles again. A laugh much darker than the first. She has never considered herself a much religious person, but the thought that hundreds of mountain people are currently trapped and unable to find peace burdens her with tremendous guilt. The acidic burn of bile starts to make its climb in her throat. Dashing to the nearest bush she releases the contents of her stomach, not that there is much to spill anyways. Using her sleeve, she gently wipes the evidence away from the corners of her mouth.

Sinking against the rough bark of a towering tree she lets exhaustion take over. Never has she felt so drained. What she feels now is nothing to what she had once experienced in her isolated cell up on the Ark. She remembers how a few days of segregation had brought her mind into a dark place. But this? How she’s feeling right now, is unimaginable. Humans are a naturally social species and with the weight of what she has done she knows she emotionally can’t hold on much longer.

Even if she chooses to psychologically will herself to pull through this, it might not be enough because, physically, she’s fading. She’s not sure how long she’s been away. The days began blurring together after the fourth sunrise, but from her stomach’s thunderous rumbles it has been too long since she’s had a decent meal. Clarke lifts her shirt and observes the sunken outline of her ribs.

 _“Well shit_ ,” thought Clarke as she quickly pulled her shirt back down. “ _Those weren’t there before.”_ She remembers reading a textbook once that stated that the human body could survive nearly forty days without food. Clarke shivers when she recalls the pictures of the malnourished, skeleton like faces. Silently Clarke encourages herself; this is not the way her soul will release itself to the earth, it’s time to find more food.

Clarke’s thought process is broken when she hears movement in the distance. She quickly reaches for her gun, but soon remembers she had used the last of her bullets attempting to get a rabbit a few days ago. Three bullets were wasted before the fourth finally hit her mark. Saliva begins to pool in her mouth at the lingering memory of the rabbit’s taste.

The whole process was a learning curve. She had no idea what she was doing when she prepared the rabbit for supper. It was a truly pathetic scene and Clarke is grateful no one was there to witness her feeble efforts. Once the rabbit was ready for the fire it had been hard gauging the heat of the flame. Clarke’s lips curl slightly upward at the memory. She is pretty sure she overcooked any nutritional value the meat could have had. Taste aside, the charcoal like bits did satisfy her hunger.

She knows her lack of cooking skills isn’t fully her fault. Back at the Ark there wasn’t need to cook since all meals were prepared cafeteria style by Anita. Anita was the grandma everyone wished they had, famous for her gentle eyes and of course Clarke’s favourite: sticky cinnamon buns. The slight smile that had found Clarke’s lips, flips back into a frown. There is no time for such reminiscing now.

Clarke returns her attention back to the rustle in the bush. The noise is growing louder, and Clarke musters her last bit of strength to defend herself. She hopes if she must protect herself, she will be able to tap into some hidden energy reserve. There’s a feeling of nakedness without her gun, but Clarke reassures herself that she isn’t completely useless when it comes to combat. She did spend much time training up in the Ark.

It was a luxury only given to the families who were of higher importance. Since her mother and father held elite positions, both occupation wise and politically speaking, Clarke was enrolled into martial arts classes. The lessons seemed innocent at first, but as Clarke got older, she soon realized the more sinister purpose for her martial arts training: to provide the elite a cloak of protection in the event of an uprising from the lower class. 

Clarke proved to be an exceptional student. One of the Ark’s best who learned many different forms of martial art styles. She had mastered all sorts of grapples, blocks, holds, and disarms well before she was sixteen. In fact, she had earned her fourth black belt just five days before she was sentenced to her cell.

Clarke adjusts her defensive crouch with barely has enough energy to change positions. Whatever this is she hopes it will either kill her quickly or will dash off – she’s not in the mood for such unnecessary drama. After a few more seconds the culprit makes its presence known. A small fawn peers between the branches and Clarke’s shoulders instantly relax. She hasn’t had much experience with wildlife on the ground, but this creature doesn’t look like it wants her for dinner.

A rumbling roar from Clarke’s stomach reminds her just how hungry she is. This fawn however, will not be her next lunch. Another rumble echoes from deep within her stomach. Its been decided, today’s task will be focused around finding something a little more nourishing than the roots she had for breakfast.

* * *

**_LYRA_ **

A muffled cry startles Lyra out of her thoughts. Looking down Lyra is overcome with sorrow as fresh tears escape down Clarke’s hollowed cheeks. Resting one hand on a tree, Clarke leans over and empties the contents of her stomach onto the mossy ground. Lyra sighs, this is the lowest point she has seen Clarke. Which is a significant cause for worry especially considering the state Lyra had found her in.

When Heda first told Lyra of the mission she felt a surge of excitement. As a young _seken_ an opportunity like this was unheard of. It was a chance to prove herself. Heda made her orders clear, Lyra must find Wanheda before anyone else could. It was never explicitly said, but at the time Lyra had a strong sense Wanheda’s safety was of upmost importance to Heda. So Lyra did her best to find Wanheda as quickly as possible. 

When Lyra left the gates of Polis, she looked towards the sun and figured she had only a few hours of sunlight left before she would need to make camp. She remembers her instincts had told her that the best bet in finding the Skai girl would be to head towards the Skaikru camp. The Skaikru do not have a reputation of being the fastest travellers so Wanheda couldn’t have ventured too far from that area.

It was a mix of luck and skill, but it did not take long for Lyra to find Wanheda. Especially when Lyra got in a much closer proximity. Lyra rolls her eyes as she smirks. Well truthfully it would have been impossible not to find Clarke. Clarke’s feet slam into the forest floor with such intensity she sounds like an angry _pauna_ tromping around the forest in search of its next feast. Lyra is still shocked. She heard about the Skaikru’s reputation, but this? This is ridiculous. Lyra has already made a mental note that if she will ever become friends with Clarke, she will have to teach her a thing or two about stealth.

At first Lyra was worried just _who_ Clarke could be attracting with her noisy steps. But after a week of watching her, Lyra’s concern shifted to Clarke’s health. It is clear Clarke is not a much of a hunter as her diet has only consisted of roots and weeds. Lyra does not possess much knowledge in nutrition, but she feels those dirty roots will not sustain Wanheda for very long.

At least Clarke did get some protein a few days ago when she shot the rabbit. It took her three attempts with the _Maun_ like weapon, but Lyra remembers feeling a sense of pride when Clarke finally hit her mark. Lyra scrunches her face with slight disgust. Well she _had_ been proud of Clarke and then Clarke begun to skin the prize.

It was a truly a horrendous sight; fur and fresh carcass were flying every which way. Lyra realized she couldn’t hold it against Clarke. Clarke meant no disrespect to the rabbit’s soul. The Skaikru are like babies, eventually they will learn the grounder way. Even Clarke’s cooking method was questionable. The rabbit was burnt beyond recognition and Lyra felt so much pity for Clarke in that moment. Anyone who’d willingly eat something like that is truly desperate.

After the rabbit, Lyra remembers seeing a change in Clarke. She had more energy and seemed to be more contempt with her solitude. Clarke had even found the motivation to walk to a stream for a quick bath. Grounders are never ones to be ashamed of nudity, but Lyra was not sure how the Skaikru felt about it. So to be safe, Lyra gave Clarke the privacy she deserved.

Everything was looking promising for Clarke. However, that night Clarke progressed to her lowest point. Lyra still feels haunted by the pain in Clarke’s screams. Lyra remembers thinking the Wanheda was being attacked, so naturally Lyra went into defender mode. Quickly she unsheathed her sword and jumped down from her perch.

However, once Lyra had seen the true reason for the screams Lyra fell to her knees. Extreme sadness had washed over her as she too shed a tear for Wanheda. Clarke had beads of sweat pooled along her Sunkissed hairline. Shaking violently, Clarke’s clawed fingers slashed at her chest. Lyra had to fight the urge to rush to Wanheda’s side and comfort her. But restrained her temptation by reminding herself of Heda’s words: _do not intervene unless absolutely necessary._

Lyra had to reassure herself that even though night terrors like these were traumatizing, they certainly weren’t life threatening. So, she had to wait. Hoping Clarke would pull herself out of the deep sleep. If Lyra remembers correctly, it had taken twenty minutes before Clarke’s screams subsided. Lyra had been so affected by the pain in Clarke’s unconscious sobs Lyra cried along with Wanheda. Lyra had thought, if she couldn’t comfort her, this was the least she could do.

When Clarke eventually awoke out of her deep sleep she was in a frenzy. Her behaviour was wild and erratic, full of rage. At the time Lyra had already spent many days watching over Clarke. Lyra had seen the ups and downs and felt like she was beginning to know who Clarke really was. But Clarke’s display of emotions that night was absolutely terrifying. Even today, Lyra is still bothered by what she had witnessed. 

Lyra’s mouth had been left agape when she watched Wanheda punch wildly at the bark of the tree. Fresh wounds around Clarke’s knuckles glimmered in the moonlight. Lyra remembers making a mental note to check Clarke’s knuckles in a few days time as dirt was a potential breeding ground infection (luckily, Clarke realized the potential danger and had rinsed them in the spring the next morning. Only to leave behind scabbed, purpling bruises as a reminder of the outburst). 

After the assault on the tree, Clarke had returned to gut wrenching sobs as she rested her head dejectedly on the blood-stained bark. Lyra recalls that Clarke’s position had been one of defeat and Lyra thought Clarke had fallen into a sleep. Until Lyra heard the quietest of whispers:

_“I hate you.”_

At first Lyra thought she’d misheard. Lyra was proven wrong when words full of hatred, as if laced with Azgeda’s most ruthless poison, poured from Clarke’s distraught lips.

 _“I hate you. I fucking hate you, you know that. H-how could you do this to me! You left me to die and just look at what I’ve have become. No, look what you’ve forced me to become! If only you could see the pain I live in now, would it make you happy?!”_ A mixture of laboured breaths and sobs tore through the darkness before Clarke continued. _“Get out of my dreams! It’s bad enough that every time I close my eyes I’m haunted by their faces. But to suffer the pain of seeing you too? I can’t take it, get the fuck out!_ _Do you hear me???!”_ Clarke’s shout ricocheted a piercing echo that cut through the stillness of the night _“I haaaate you! If I ever see you again you stupid bitch, I swear to god I will cut your throat and kill you myself!!!!”_

Lyra remembers how one last tear rolled down her face before she returned to the forest canopy. She hadn’t realized what her freedom costed until witnessing Clarke’s heart-breaking meltdown. It’s been almost two weeks since that night and Lyra still has no idea who Clarke had been screaming to. But one thing Lyra knows for sure is that the Commander had spoken true. Wanheda sacrificed her own soul in exchange for the grounder’s new life of peace.


	3. Unexpected Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At her lowest point, Clarke receives a visit from unexpected guests. Meanwhile in Polis, the city anxiously prepares for Azgeda's arrival. Tensions are high as many wait with anticipation to see what Queen Nia is prepared to offer in exchange of taking the brand to become the 13th clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where chapter 2 left off, I'm sure it's obvious that we will be spending some time in the past. I just wanted to clarify that the majority of this fic's length will be set in present time, so we will get to the new setting soon(ish) I promise. When wrote this fic it was, or I guess still is, my goal to create complex characters with enriched backstories. So when this fic takes off running in the present I hope that their histories will set the stage for all the feels. 
> 
> Also - I was final editing Sunday's chapter and I realized it's way too dang short. I think we all can agree it would be cruel to make you wait until Sunday only to have a skimpy little chapter to read. So be on the look out tonight as another (mini) chapter will be heading your way. 
> 
> And lastly, I was asked to create a tumblr account and post the chapter sneak peeks there too. This has been done. So check out: lms180 if that kind of thing interests you. Later today the preview for tonight's mini chapter will also be posted there before the ao3 upload so stay tuned. 
> 
> Thanks for reading -xo LMS

_21 days after the fall of mount weather_

**_CLARKE_ **

Clarke slowly makes her way to the edge of the stream. Eagerly she laps up the freshwater clenching her thirst. Today she feels even more dejected than she had yesterday because her lunch. More dam roots.

Dipping the roots into the water Clarke begins to wipe away the dirt caked between the delicate fibres. Taking in her surroundings, she’s not sure where she is. She remembers the night Le– the Commander spent teaching her about the different boarders of each clan. It was an evening after Clarke and the other generals had spent talking war tactics on taking down the Mountain. After all the generals had been dismissed the Commander requested Clarke to stay behind. Clarke remembers unrolling one of the large maps that was sitting on the long table.

Its was old. Withered in such a way, fragile was an understatement. Being extra cautious on the yellowed paper, Clarke placed her fingers over TonDC and slowly traced North along one of the rivers. Clarke remembers catching her breath when she had felt _her_ presence behind her. Clarke had known she was there because of _her_ smell. An intoxicating mix of earth and spice was all it took to cause a slight flutter in Clarke’s chest.

_“It’s beautiful isn’t is?”_ A low, husky voice whispered into Clarke’s ear. Clarke remembers nodding. But truthfully, she is still not sure if she had been agreeing to the contents on map or the intoxication felt in _her_ presence. A strong, calloused hand then reached around and placed itself on top of Clarke’s.

_“This is one of my favorite rivers. When I was a young, rebellious seken it’s where I would go to find sanctuary from Anya’s persistent training methods. And over here…”_ The hand slid Clarke's to a new point on the map, “ _…is the place I made my first kill… and here I will forever treasure this spot. This is the place I could finally breath again; this is where we first met.”_

A fish jumps freely into the air; the sound of its splash pulls Clarke out from her memories. She scorns herself for the slip. There was, nor will ever be, a Lexa. Clarke fooled herself into thinking she could see through that stoic mask. But she had been a fool, there is no gentle soul buried beneath the complex layers of the Commander. The idea of Lexa doesn’t exist, the Commander played her, and Clarke fell foolishly for it.

That kiss they shared. A lie, and Clarke hates that she let herself be manipulated by the cold witch only to be thrown aside when it suited the Commander most. Angerly Clarke bites down on one of her roots. If she ever makes it out of this wilderness alive, she hopes to never lay eyes on her again.

Picking up a rock, Clarke whips it into a tree. The pop it makes when the stone smacks into the bark instantly makes her feel better. She traces her fingers along the rough bark to inspect the small indent she just created. The damage reminds Clarke of the breaking point she had experienced only a few nights ago. Shuddering from the memories Clarke looks over the deep purple still lingering on her knuckles. It was an embarrassing moment; her rage was stupid, and she knows it. Not only could she have broken both her hands, but the cuts she had caused could of became infected. 

_“You are here alone Clarke. No one is here to save you,”_ thought Clarke to herself. _“Don’t you think survival would be pretty hard if you couldn’t use your hands?!”_

A sudden flicker of red catches her attention. Clarke looks towards the colour and her stomach lurches instantly. Berries! Without further thought she ravenously starts filling her cheeks. A small moan of satisfaction rises in her throat. The berries are more bitter than she expected, but the taste is welcomed. At this point, anything other than roots is to be celebrated.

After her fill, Clarke figures it’s a good time to stop and setup camp near this stream. The sky has darkened and from the looks of it, it will probably start raining soon. If she has learnt anything from this experience, she’d rather not be stuck wondering the woods like a drenched rat. So, to avoid this fate she will need to find the perfect cover.

About an hour later, Clarke’s suspicions were proved to be correct when the sky opened and began cooling the surface of the earth. A spark of pride fills her chest. She sure is getting the hang of this ground living. Raven and Octavia would be so proud if they could just see her now. Her gloat is quickly replaced with concern when she notices a movement in her peripherals.

“Who's out there? Show yourself!”

That’s when Clarke sees more movement from behind the bush. Grabbing a rock, she prepares to defend herself. A loud gasp escapes her lips when the figure steps from behind the bush. To her surprise, it’s an old man.

His white hair is trimmed fashionably and the oxford shirt he is sporting is crisp and rolled up to his elbows. Clarke freezes in place when the man makes his way closer to her position. Meeting his gaze, she can feel his ghost like eyes burrow deep into the depths of her soul. He is familiar, but in her mind’s haze, she cannot seem to remember his name.

Her eyes dart down to the dark red stain beginning to seep onto front of his shirt. The blood oozes out from his chest in such a way that it looks like the man has been shot. A rush of emotions flood through Clarke when her mind becomes clear again. 

“Dante Wallace?” questions Clarke.

The rock slips from her weakened grasp. Crashing to her knees she covers her face from the sight of the approaching man. 

_“This can’t be real,”_ Clarke thought. _“I shot him. I watched him die…all of them… I watched them all die…”_

Sobs full of sorrow escape into her hands. This cannot be happening; this is not real. It cannot be real

“What do you want from me?!”

Clarke’s chest tightens like a vice as her breath becomes quick and shallow. Her heart slams into the walls of her chest and cold beads of sweat begin to collect in her hairline. Opening her eyes another anguished cry escapes her. Standing behind Dante Wallace are hundreds of Mountain people all burned beyond recognition.

“I’m so sorry! You need to understand, I never wanted to do this… any of this! You have no idea what this has done to me, but I needed to save my people!” Clarke pleads, “I am so sorry, please believe me when I say I am living with the consequences. I promise you; I will never forget you. But please leave me alone. I can’t take this…”

Clarke looks up again to see a small child step closer. It’s a horrific sight. The child, more like what’s left of the child, is also burnt beyond recognition. What was once an innocent life is replaced with melted and blistering skin, twisted, and peeled into a contorted pattern. It's just too much for Clarke to take in and once again she breaks down into sobs from the weight of their haunted stares.

“Kill me!” Clasping the fabric close to her chest, another blood curdling scream escapes her lips, “Did you not hear me? I said kill me!”

Reaching down to grab a rock she releases it into Dante’s ghost. Nothing. She throws another and then another trying to antagonize the onlookers, but they all just stand there. Silent and in place.

“Come on! Come get the revenge you deserve. Hate me like I hated you!” She pauses to catch her stuttering breath. To her surprise blood has painted her hands deep red too. In her anguish she didn’t even notice how the rock’s sharp edges were lacing deep wounds into her palms.

Clarke lets out a cold, sinister like laugh. It’s almost poetic, she will never escape the blood caused by her hands. Dropping the rock, she fixates her eyes to the crimson liquid pooling in her palms. She takes a stumbling step forward, but she quickly corrects her stride to regain balance.

Something isn’t right. Confusion spins into her mind as the air begins to feel heavy. Every breath feels as if a thick liquid is being drawn into her lungs. Eyelids flutter as she fights to keep them open. Glancing once more towards the mountain men, they all begin to evaporate into the swirling the wind. All it takes is one more drunken step forward and Clarke falls into a sea of blackness.

* * *

**_LYRA_ **

“Kill me!”

The distraught scream snaps Lyra to attention. Worry washes over her as she sprints towards Clarke’s voice. With every step she takes she reprimands herself for letting Clarke out of her sight. She didn’t think Clarke would get into too much trouble, especially since the Skai princess had been in such a brooding mood when Lyra left to check her traps. Which Lyra doesn’t blame Clarke for. Lyra probably would be brooding too if her meals consisted of the usual roots.

“Did you not hear me? I said kill me!”

Lyra quickens her sprint. If something happens to Clarke, well the Commander would surely have her head. The young _seken’s_ eyes widen when she breaks into the bank’s clearing. Clarke’s shirt has been ripped open haphazardly, her forehead glistens with sweat, and blood drips down from her clenched fists. But what disturbs Lyra the most is the way Clarke is staring. Clarke’s blue eyes are wide with torment, they are unfocused, yet fixated on the empty space just in front of her. Lyra had been preparing herself for a fight, but she is not sure how to deal with this perplexing twist. 

She watches with immense confusion as Clarke catapults rocks into the stream. It’s certain that there is no physical danger, but Lyra isn’t sure how to or if she should intercede. Would trying to calm Clarke down go against the Commander’s orders?

“Come on! Come get the revenge you deserve,” screams Clarke, “Hate me like I hated you!”

Lyra freezes, its clear Clarke is battling something of the mind, but what _?_ She’s not sure but knows she must find out soon. With every passing second, Lyra can tell Clarke is getting dragged further down into the dark abyss of the mind.

“Wanheda!” a trembling sound flees Lyra’s lips when Clarke collapses to the ground. Lyra rushes to her side and begins inspecting for further injuries. Both Clarke’s palms have deep lacerations. Not life threatening but will sure cause much discomfort when she awakes.

Lyra gasps at a head wound bleeding profusely. Clarke must have hit her head when she fell. She’s heard the healers talk about the dangerousness of brain trauma and hopes this isn’t the case for Clarke. Continuing the search further, Lyra stops when her fingers feel a wet explosion inside one of Clarke’s pockets. When the contents are pulled out, Lyra’s chest immediately chest tightens. 

_“_ Skai Princes, you _branwada_!”

The berries are immediately recognized. _Joka_ berries. All grounders learn at a very young age the affects of this fruit. In small dosages they are relatively harmless, tricking the mind into seeing things that don’t really exist. Which explains Clarke’s wild behaviour. Whatever she saw obviously distressed her.

However, what concerns Lyra the most is that she knows Clarke wouldn’t have had just a few berries. She was literally starving. Clarke most likely helped herself to handfuls in attempt to satisfy hunger. This thought constricts the tightness of Lyra’s chest even further. At a large enough dosage these berries are fatal; killing slowly by leaching toxins into its unconscious host. Lyra knows Clarke’s life is running against time.

This is a matter that far exceeds Lyra’s skills. She needs to get Clarke to Nyko so he can provide the proper care and hopefully an antidote. Looking towards the sun, Lyra figures there is about four hours of daylight left. She knows that they are not too far from Polis, possibly only about a two-hour walk. Clarke is lucky her travels were in the direction of the grounder capitol.

“ _Had she been walking any other route_ …” Lyra quickly dismisses the thought. This will be an exhausting journey and she needed to be moving minutes ago. Just before she lifts Clarke up, she clenches her jaw slightly. Would the Commander consider this an _absolutely necessary_ situation? Will she get punished for bringing Clarke to Polis against her free will? As she picks Clarke up, Lyra dismisses her thoughts again.

Over the last few weeks, Lyra feels like she has developed a friendly connection with the Skai Heda. A ridiculous thought especially since Clarke doesn’t even know she has had a stalker over these past weeks. Turning towards the direction of Polis, Lyra sets a swift pace. Regardless of the Commander’s orders Lyra feels like she is doing the right thing. Friends protect friends. She just hopes Clarke is strong enough to make it through the long trip they have ahead of them.

* * *

**_LEXA_ **

“I have personally overseen the preparations to accommodate our arriving guests. Everything is on schedule Commander,” said Titus. “As per your command I have just sent out our hunting party. I expect that they will return within three days. I have already told Jenja to ensure she has enough kitchen staff to prepare the largest feast Polis has ever seen”. Titus waits for a moment before continuing, “Heda, are you sure about this? I only ask bec-”

Lexa holds up her hand and the bald man immediately silences.

“You are in no position to question my orders, Titus.”

“My intention is never to question your judgement Heda. But I do fear you are giving Azgeda a dangerous opportunity and to reward them with a grand feast? Heda I beg you to reconsider.”

Lexa picks up her dagger and begins twirling it through her fingers. Carefully she mulls over Titus’ words. She knows Titus does speak a hint of truth. Inviting a clan with such a blood-stained history with the other clans into the coalition comes with great risk. Truthfully, she had been quite surprised when she was told by the scouts a small Azgeda party was making their way to request an audience.

Lexa was unsure of their intentions, so she had chosen to wear her formal gear for the meeting. Warpaint had been strategically painted around her eyes and streaked up into her hairline. The Commander’s signature red sash sat situated underneath her black, double plated pauldron. She looked ferocious, but that had been her intention.

Lexa had situated herself on her throne and made sure Anya was to her left and Indra to her right. It was a moment of uncertainty and she wanted her most trusted generals by her side to observe for signs of trickery when the message was received.

She remembers watching how nervous the Ice Nation messenger looked when he was ushered into her war room. He was a small man with tangled blonde hair and bean like limbs. Lexa’s first impression was the man should probably eat more meat as he could easily be snapped into two.

_“You’re in the presence of the Commander, show your respect.”_ Indra hissed. Eyes full of skepticism as she watched the messenger fall into a deep bow.

_“What is your message. Why do you seek this audience?”_ said Anya in a much less aggressive tone than Indra. But Lexa remembers Anya's stare being equally as skeptical.

_“I come with a message from our Haiplana,”_ said the messenger _. “Words of your triumphant defeat have reached the ears of Azgeda. Those who live near our shared boarders sing praises to your name Commander. For they too do no have to fear the claws of the mountain anymore._

_Our Haiplana and her advisors also send you congratulations. They too sing your praise. Our Haiplana has had time to reflect the history we have had with the Trikru and the other clans. She recognizes the strength you possess, and she would like to renegotiate the terms of the current peace treaty…”_ The messenger fiddled with the hem of his cloak as if nervous for the next part of his message. _“And she would like Azgeda to join the coalition and become the thirteenth clan.”_

_“He speaks lies!”_ Indra quickly had her spear pressed to the messenger’s throat; a small trickle of blood beaded down his neck.

_“Em pleni!”_

Nia’s request completely shocked Lexa, but of course she had never indicated these feelings to the messenger. With her stoic, detached gaze she twirled her favoured dagger. It was no secret that the fall of the mountain was an impressive display of the coalition’s strength – making its membership attractive to outsiders.

Of course the Skaikru initially resented Lexa. Octavia went so far, she had to be restrained. Screaming death threats, she spit in insult at Lexa’s feet. Had it been anyone else, Lexa would have taken her head. But Lexa knew Indra’s soft spot for the Skai girl so resorted to a soft punishment of five lashes.

Then there was Abby, Skaikru’s Chancellor. Abby had requested a private meeting with Lexa, which Lexa granted. Not only did Lexa hope the gesture would help convince Abby that the Skaikru should become the twelve clan, but selfishly Lexa hoped Abby would provide news about Clarke. Once alone, Abby proved to be just as emotional as Octavia and landed a slap right across Lexa’s shocked face.

It had been unexpected, and Lexa was thankful Indra was not present. If she had, Abby would have suffered a gruesome death – one Clarke would never forgive. Thankfully, Lexa finally was able to get Marcus Kane to see reason. He had been hesitant at first, but quickly saw the necessity of the alliance for Skaikru’s survival. Especially when Lexa had offered a group of warriors to show them how to properly live life on the ground.

It most likely had been a bitter pill to swallow, especially after the fresh wounds of the Mountain’s betrayal. But somehow Marcus convinced the Skaikru to become the twelve clan and he took the brand just a couple weeks after the mountain’s demise. Lexa knows many Skaikru have yet to forgive her, but she believes she’d rather have her enemies close than far away. And this is exactly what Lexa had thought when she heard Azgeda’s request.

Nia does not cower in the presence of power, she lusts to hold it herself. So Lexa knew she would be a fool to naïvely believe the proposition came with only innocent intentions. Lexa had felt there was a darker, ulterior motive underneath the messenger’s request, but at the time couldn’t decide what it could be. Of course, she had her suspicions on Nia’s true intentions, but good Commanders don’t make decisions based on wild theories and emotions. Lexa needed more facts, so she remembers pressing the messenger further.

_“And why should I give the Ice Nation such an honour? If you remember it was your clan who provoked us into war not many years ago. How can I trust history isn’t going become the future?”_

_“I assure you Heda, Azgeda’s request does not stem from one of malicious nature. We are tired of being at odds and want a better life for our people. The coalition will allow trade within our boarders. I know the other Clans will be expectant to see the goods our nation can offer._

_To give you a taste of Azgeda, our Haiplana has arranged for a small party to bring goods to you and the other twelve clans who will still be in Polis celebrating the Mountain’s fall. I have seen the wagons myself and I do say you will not be disappointed. We will also be bringing weaponry made from the precious metals of the Illok mountains._

_There are only two blacksmiths in all Azgeda who posses the sacred knowledge to forge such weaponry. As a sign of our intentions, we will be gifting you one of these blacksmiths to work in Polis. Should any clan be willing to pay the price for such a luxury, these prestigious weapons will be theirs. Our Haiplana has also granted him permission to take on a few apprentices should he find others that hold promise in the trade. We hope that by giving you access to one of Azgeda’s best kept secret, trust will be granted in return.”_

Both Lexa’s generals had gasped. Lexa too was taken by surprise; so much so her dagger immediately halted. The Azgeda army was by far one of intimidating size, outnumber any clan’s at least three to one. However, it’s not their fighting style that gives them an upper edge – a well trained Trikru warrior can outmaneuver them without second thought – but what gives the Ice Nation an advantage is those warriors who yield blades forged with the Illok metals.

The weaponry is much stronger, never loses shape, and most importantly never dulls. Lexa would be a fool to not accept such an offer. Even if only a few of her generals carry such blades, the odds of battle would tip heavily in Lexa’s favour. For Nia to willingly give up such an advantage had confirmed Lexa’s suspicions. The Queen must have something else up her sleeve and should not be trusted. But like the Skaikru, Lexa felt it would be to her advantage to learn more about her enemy and the only way she could do this is to keep them close.

_“Tell me messenger, do you believe your Haiplana will be willing to submit her authority to me? When I call for Azgeda’s armies will they not hesitate to come to our aid? Will they be willing to sacrifice themselves for other warriors? Warriors who once were enemies on the battlefield not long ago?_ Lexa had already known the answer but wanted to test this messenger.

“ _Sha, Heda. I believe with your guidance this transition is possible. But as we both know we will need mutual trust from all parties involved. Of course, it will not be without its challenges. It may be difficult to convince others that this union is in their best interest. But I do believe if all clans can put the past behind them, this new alliance will make us all prosper.”_

It was better answer than Lexa had anticipated.

_“Very well messenger, I will accept your Queen’s request. Remind me again, when should we expect our Azgeda guests?”_

_“As mentioned, our small party is set to arrive in Polis very soon. Since you have graciously granted us a further audience, I will send word to our Haiplana. She herself will be personally among those bringing our gifts down to Polis. To further demonstrate our dedication to the coalition she has chosen only twenty warriors to travel at her side._

_Since she has yet to declare an heir since Roan’s death, her life is of highest importance to Azgeda’s future. She believes this will send a message to the other clans on how willing she is to forget the past. By placing such trust in her new allies, she hopes others can see how pure her intentions are for becoming the thirteenth clan. All she asks in return is to have twenty Trikru warriors welcome the party at the Triku-Azgeda boarder to ensure safe travels to Polis. Once again, her safety is Azgeda’s priority.”_

_“The arrangements will be made. Please tell your Queen Polis is expectant for her arrival.”_

“Heda, Heda!”

Lexa is pulled back to the present when a scout bursts through the wooden doors. She sees Titus flash the scout a death-look for the interruption, but Lexa can deal with his questioning attitude later. She already knows the risk of her decision, so there is no need to dwell on what has already been decided. Plus, whatever has caused a messenger to interrupt a private meeting has made her quite curious. His news must be of importance.

“Speak,” said Lexa.

The scout dips into a bow of respect. When he stands, he pulls out a small cloth and quickly dabs the sweat pooling near his brow. He has clearly come with great haste.

“I just received word from a fellow scout patrolling the Northeast woods of Polis. Lyra kom Trikru is making her way towards the city. She is about forty-five minutes away and is traveling at great speed. The scout said she is starting to lose stamina with the weight she is carrying.”

Lexa feels her knuckles turning white as she tightens her grip around the pommel of her sword. She had given Lyra clear orders. The young _seken_ knew not to leave Clarke’s side unless Clarke decided to come to Polis or return to Arkadia. However, from the direction Lyra is coming, Lexa knows it was not the latter. A slight hint of panic begins to roll around like a pit in her stomach

“And of Wanheda?” Lexa knows she spoke a little too soon, and a little too eagerly. Luckily the only one who has noticed her slipup is Titus. His beady eyes burn through her side profile, but she ignores him. 

“It appears…It appears Wanheda has had some sort of accident. I did not receive anymore information other than her strength is weakening and she has lost colo-”

Lexa immediately feels the blood drain from her face. The messenger’s voice blurs into background as the mask of the Commander slips off and dread begins to cloud her eyes. 

“Heda? Heda please what are your orders?”

Lexa snaps back to her senses. Her spine becomes rigid as she spurs into action.

“Send riders out now!!! You must tell no one of this. I want to be informed the very second Wanheda is safe inside the city walls. Anya, request Nyko’s presence immediately. I will need him in the tower for Wanheda.” Lexa pauses to catch her breath. Pointing towards her next target she continues, “Talia, begin preparing the top floor’s West side suite. I want at least five guards placed at its entrance at all times.”

* * *

_**TALIA** _

As soon as the Commander storms out of the room a breath leaves Talia’s lips. She knows the West side suite is not given to just any guests. It’s the second largest room in the tower. Second only to Heda’s which is located on the East side of the same floor.

Talia has only been through the doors of the West suite a few times. It’s a beautiful room that never fails to take her breath away. A large, grey stoned fireplace acts as the room’s focal point. In front of the fireplace two couches sit. There is a large walk-in closet, complete with its own armoury and shelves for other treasures the guest would like to keep safe. Marble floors line a bathroom that holds a generously sized tub. The tub is situated in such a way that privacy is maximized but the positioning near the balcony allows the bather to overlook the beauty of Polis.

However, Talia’s favourite piece is the enormous bed that is located underneath the antler like chandelier. The bed is covered with some of the softest furs and sits on a mahogany coloured frame. Intricate carvings have been etched into the posts and a large cogwheel matching the Commander’s own symbol has been engraved into its headboard.

Another gasp of realization fills Talia’s lungs. This room hasn’t been occupied since _her_ death many summers ago. Talia realizes whatever Wanheda is to the Commander must be of high importance. Talia knows she must do everything she can to make sure she and the other staff treat Wanheda like they would treat the Commander herself. A small smile crosses Talia’s face. Maybe, just maybe the Commander has finally decided that love is not weakness

* * *


	4. The Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recalling the events after the mountain, Lexa takes time to reflect on her choices and what the consequences could mean for her and Clarke.

_**Polis** _

**_21 days after the fall of mount weather_ **

****

**_CLARKE_ **

****

Clarke feels a damp pressure on her forehead, its cold presence is welcomed as it provides a relief from the painful heat racing through her body. She goes to sit up, but instantly is stricken with fear when she realizes she can’t move. Clarke shouts for help but is soon discouraged when no sound emerges from her mouth. Anxiety further claws at her chest when Clarke comprehends she cannot even see. Completely paralyzed, she is only aware of touch.

 _“And wait…are those voices?”_ thought Clarke.

“How much longer will she be out? She has been unconscious for more than two days! Are you sure you gave her the _right_ antidote?!”

 _“That voice,”_ thought Clarke. _“I recognize that voice, but it’s so different. So much smaller and scared than I ever remember.”_

“I assure you. I am doing everything I can.”

“Well do better!” A loud bang echoes. From the way it sounded, Clarke suspects the noise was caused by something being dropped. 

“From Lyra’s reports the amount of _Joka_ berries Wanheda ingested could be life threatening. Her body is trying to fight off the poison with this fever. This is a promising sign. But I will be honest with you, by looking at how…” The man’s deep voice pauses as if not knowing what to say, “…frail she has become I am concerned she won’t be strong enough to pull herself out of unconsciousness. I assure you all we can do now is wait. You haven’t left this room for two days and our Azgeda guests will be arriving soon. You need to rest; Talia will send for you as soon she wakes.”

 _“Who is this Lyra? And what is a Wanheda? Wait, what’s the last thing I can remember…. Oh right, it was going to rain so I setup camp. Okay camp is an overstatement, more like I hid under a tree eating roots and berries…. Wait what’s going on. My head it’s getting fuzzy again…”_ Clarke tries to will herself to stay awake, but she soon falls back into a deep comatose.

* * *

**_LEXA_ **

Filled with rage Lexa once again smashes her hand down on the nightside table, “I will not leave her side. Do you understand me?! I have heard enough from all of you! Leave me. I want to be alone with Wanheda.”

“But Heda, she needs the cool rag. It controls her fever,” said Nyko’s _seken._

“ _Branwada_! Give it to me and I will do it. I may be Commander, but I think I am more than capable to press a wet rag onto an unconscious patient. Do not make me repeat myself for a third time – I said leave!” said Lexa through bared teeth as she forcefully snatches the wet cloth from Nyko’s wide eyed second. The quickness of her grab sends a trail of water spraying up his shocked face.

Lexa knows she is acting irrational. She has the best healers in the coalition, and she should trust them. It’s just this patient is important. This patient is Clarke, _her_ Clarke _._ Lexa has left her once and she will not leave her again.

When the door creaks shut, Lexa realizes this is the first time she has been alone with Clarke since Clarke arrived in Polis two days ago. Looking back at Clarke, Lexa suddenly feels the warmth of a sudden blush hit her cheeks. She had been so busy barking around orders Lexa didn’t even notice Clarke’s near naked form. Grounders are quite comfortable with nudity and even though Clarke still has the bindings around her breasts, Lexa still feels like she is intruding on something very private.

She quickly pulls up the soft furs to the base of Clarke’s neck, but soon feels a small flutter of anxiety. Will this make her too hot? Lexa reprimands herself for dismissing the healers so fast. She can plan war strategies in her sleep, but when it comes to healing, maybe she is completely useless.

Lexa finds her gaze returning to Clarke once again. Her heart sinks when she realizes Nyko is right. Three weeks in the wilderness has made Clarke nothing but frail. Dark purple resides underneath Clarke's eyes as cheeks far more prominent than Lexa ever remembers them to be sink into the sides of her face. Evidence that Clarke did not eat well.

Lexa feels a flash of anger with her own stupidity. Of course Clarke ate poorly, she has no formal training on the ground! Lexa did not think she needed to specify to Lyra that _no harm_ also meant not starving to death. Unclenching her jaw, she draws in a calming breath.

She shouldn’t be so upset with the young _seken_. Lyra has brought Clarke back to her when Clarke needed help the most and for that Lyra should be rewarded. Lexa makes a mental note to have Anya see to rewarding this _seken_ later.

Lexa dips the cloth back into the ice water and returns it to Clarke’s forehead. Touching a stray piece of Clarke’s golden hair, Lexa twirls it around her finger before sliding it back into its rightful place. She wonders if Clarke will ever forgive her. If roles were reversed would she forgive Clarke? Lexa frowns, she’s not sure. The past three weeks have been nothing but an emotional roller-coaster for Lexa. In the privacy of her room, she has spent countless nights crying herself to sleep thinking about her Skai princess. Was she safe? Was she sleeping well? Was she protected from the rain? Had Lyra found her yet? The constant worries swirled non-stop and now Lexa is faced with a new worry: Clarke may never wake up. Lexa’s throat tightens at the thought.

Looking to the ceiling to avoid the spill of pooling tears, Lexa remembers the first time Anya had told her about the Skai people’s leader. It was a report that made her instantly intrigued. Anyone capable off burning three hundred of Lexa’s best warriors was no ordinary girl. So when the first meeting had been arranged, Lexa was more than expectant. She remembers feeling something strange the first time her eyes met Clarke’s. As usual the Commander side of Lexa had remained impassively cold, detached from emotion. It was necessary of course; she did not know the Skai people’s intentions and needed to gauge just how much of a threat Clarke and her other delinquents were.

But fighting the Commander’s firm mask had been Lexa. The real Lexa. The Lexa who gets lost underneath all the complex layers of being the Commander. And something about Clarke left Lexa breathless. Lexa’s _oudas newanas_ told her once that eyes are the windows to the soul. A saying she'd never put much thought into until she came face to face with the Skai princess.

Clarke’s eyes showed something Lexa could not describe. It was beautiful, so pure, so intoxicating. In that war tent Lexa literally felt her heart rip into two and she knew from that day forward Clarke would forever hold the other half. The Commander side of Lexa was furious of course, for love is weakness and her sole duty is to her people. Lexa has always known what her duty demands, but in that war tent she decided to make an exception and pursue the idea of Clarke.

However, three weeks ago, this exception was tested. Lexa was forced to make the hardest decision of her life. On the outside she had been emotionless, but on the inside, she was completely shattered. Lexa chose to follow her head over her heart. The duty to protect her people comes first, it always has, and it always will. Even today, she knows it was the right choice but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t stopped hating herself for making it.

_“May we meet again.”_

Lexa replays the last four words she'd said to Clarke. A wave of guilt washes over her as she places another freshly cooled rag over Clarke's warm forehead. She hopes Clarke will one day understand how much it killed Lexa to leave Clarke face the mountain alone. If Lexa had known her actions would have turned Clarke into Wanheda, she likes to think she would have fought harder for the Skai people.

Lexa remembers coming home from the mountain. She was greeted with cheers as family reunited with family and the celebrations instantly erupted in the streets. Of course, the Commander had been expected to make many formal appearances, which Lexa did dutifully. Many boisterous toasts and uplifting speeches were made to commend the bravery of her warriors. On the outside, the Commander was thriving. But Lexa herself? She was slipping into a dark place; one she hasn’t visited since the death of Costia. And those most loyal to her knew it too; Lexa's pain wasn’t invisible to Anya’s worried glances and Indra’s concerned whispers.

It had been three days since betraying Clarke at the Mountain, and Lexa remembers sitting on her throne feeling nothing but dejected. Though to her surprise three scouts rushed themselves into the throne room.

“ _Heda! Heda!”_

_“The mountain has fallen! The mountain has fallen! They are gone, they have been defeated!!!”_

_“Heda, the Skai princess, she has destroyed them all!”_

Lexa felt herself freeze, _“When?”_

_“I am not certain. But it’s true Heda I have seen the bodies myself!!! All of them lifeless and melted beyond recognition! Heda do you know what this means?! The Skai girl, she’s legendary… she commands death herself; she is, she is W-”_

_“Wanheda,”_ said Lexa as anxiety triggered in her chest. _“And where is she now? Where is Wanheda?”_

_“I am not sure Heda, she did not return with her people. She has simply vanished!”_

After hearing the news Lexa remembers she had to excuse herself and retreat to her personal quarters. Guilt’s weight sank deep into her chest. It was feeling that left Lexa gasping frantically for air. Lexa was no stranger to death; she knew how much a genocide would change Clarke’s pure soul and worse yet, Lexa felt completely responsible.

She was standing on her balcony when Wanheda’s chant erupted in the streets below. The rumours of Wanheda would spread quickly, which meant it would only be a matter of time before someone would want to harness Wanheda’s power for themselves. Lexa needed to make sure Clarke would stay safe. If anything, she _owed_ it to Clarke to keep her safe.

It was then Lexa summoned Anya to find her a promising tracker. Lexa knew she needed to keep this discrete so she needed Anya to find a skilled warrior whose disappearance would not raise suspicions. Within the hour Lyra was bowed before her and ready to accept the mission.


	5. Someone Else's Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke begins to realize how her actions at the mountain will forever change her life on the ground. For both herself and the grounder people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter to give a little more context to Clarke before she has to make some decisions. Which means be on the lookout for Wednesday as things will be starting to pickup as we move towards the present time. 
> 
> Also, as I have been final editing other chapters I noticed some are quite long and will need to be split into pt.1 and pt. 2 or they are not long enough so I will post two to make it worth your time. So in such instances I am either going to post one in the afternoon then one in the evening OR post one on lets say Wednesday and then one Thursday? I have yet to decide. If you have a preference, any feedback on how you would like to see these type of chapters delivered would be appreciated! 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading  
> xo - LMS

**_Polis_ **

**_26 days after the fall of Mount Weather_ **

**_CLARKE_ **

Clarke slowly opens her eyes and looks towards the window. From the brightness of the sun it appears to already be mid morning. Pulling the soft furs up, she relaxes in the warmth. Today she feels strong enough to tour around the streets of Polis. Clarke rolls her eyes, or also known as her new prison.

Two days ago, Clarke had woken up to learn she foolishly ingested poisonous berries. Thanks to her watcher, no more like _stalker,_ Clarke made it back to Polis and received care from Le – the Commander’s personal healer.

It infuriates Clarke that the Commander had her followed. But as annoyed as she is, she is thankful that her stalker was there to give her a second chance. Clarke hates to admit it, but she could go as far to say she secretly feels a small hint of gratitude towards her shadow. She still hasn’t decided if she wants to meet the warrior who was ordered to be on babysitting duty. Especially since Clarke is not sure how long she had been followed and is slightly embarrassed that her emotional outbursts were privy to an audience.

Clarke sighs. Throwing her legs over the edge of the large bed, she takes a second to look around the room. She must admit it is impressive. Never did she expect Polis to look quite like this. She had her ideas, but Polis has truly changed the way she thinks about life on the ground. Even Talia reminded her of that.

Talia, an older woman who keeps her long salt and peppered hair pulled neatly in a bun, was the first person Clarke met when she regained consciousness. Her gentle eyes and maternal like presence soothed Clarke down from her panic when Clarke didn’t recognize her surroundings. Overall the hospitality has been good so far, but for the first two days Clarke refused to eat. It was beyond childish, but somehow Clarke thought if she starved to death the Commander would feel responsible (unbeknownst to Clarke, her actions had hurt Lexa. When Talia told Lexa that Clarke refused to eat anything from the _'selfishly stupid Commander_ ’ Lexa fell to her knees overcome with worry).

Clarke lets out a chuckle as she recalls yesterday morning. Talia had slammed open Clarke’s door and marched right up to Clarke’s bedside. With two scolding eyes Talia snatched Clarke’s untouched bread and shoved it right into her shocked hands. With a thick accent Talia reprimanded Clarke.

“ _Eat Skai girl! You are no good to anybody if you spend the rest of your days laying on this bed only to wither away into a pathetic sack of bones! If the other Skaikru can forgive and forget, you can too. Now eat this bread and prove to me you can act like the Skai Heda everyone thinks you are and not some small child who’s still feeding at her mother’s breast.”_

_“Like the other Skaikru?”_

_“Yes, my child. While you were out pretending to be some sort of nomad, the Skaikru had decided their best chances for survival was in the Coalition. They are now the twelve clan under the Commander’s protection. So like it or not, that means you too Clarke kom Skaikru.”_

Talia’s bold words made Clarke feel like her jaw had hit the floor. If her people somehow managed to forgive and move on, well maybe she could too. But she doesn't want to deal with thinking of forgiveness right now, because that will mean she will have to think about _her._ Clarke sighs again as she sluggishly lets herself down from the bed. Her first step is much shakier than she anticipated it to be. Under her weight her knees buckle, and she awkwardly tumbles to the floor. Apparently avoiding her meals has more consequences than she realized.

Using furniture as a guide, she slowly makes her way to the bathroom. The texture of the marble floor feels eerily like her old room on the Ark. Large grey tiles cool the soles of feet as she strides towards the mirror. Clarke’s breath catches in her chest when she sees the skeleton like figure staring back at her. 

Rubbing her hollowed cheeks, the change feels surreal. She knew the root diet wasn’t much of a anything, but she hadn’t realized just how much nutrition she was depriving herself. Talia had been right; she really is turning into a bag of bones. Running fingers through her haggard hair, Clarke realizes she doesn’t remember the last time she bathed. The idea of filling this large porcelain tub is very welcoming.

“Excuse me Wanheda?”

Clarke cringes at the name. Talia had told her about the Legend of Wanheda. Apparently, she is now the Commander of death. Perfectly fitting as terrible deeds deserve nothing but a terrible sounding name. 

“Wanheda?” the voice behind Clarke questions again. Clarke turns to see a much taller girl standing in the doorway. “Wanheda, my name is Niylah. Talia has assigned me to your service as your personal handmaiden. My job is to make sure you are well taken care of. Should you need anything I am at your command.”

Niylah gives Clarke a soft smile. From the wave of heat felt, Clarke can only imagine the tips of her ears have turned a slight shade of pink. 

“Please, call me Clarke, but I think I am good for now thanks.” Niylah dips her head to leave, but the thought of her own filthy reflection makes Clarke reconsider, “Niylah wait! Actually I changed my mind. Can you please help me with the bath?”

Niylah lets out a small chuckle, “I was hoping you would ask. Your time in the wilderness has left a certain mark, or should I say smell, on you.”

Again Clarke feels her face flush a deep red. Quickly she attempts to hide her embarrassment by diverting the conversation, “I never knew the ground had running water.”

“Actually, most parts don’t. Polis is one of the only places where the old-world systems are still intact,” said Niylah gently motioning to Clarke. “Come here Clarke, your bath is near ready.”

Niylah’s invitation makes Clarke freeze. She’s unfamiliar with grounder protocol nor has she ever had a handmaiden before. Does Niylah expect her to undress in her presence? Sheepishly Clarke looks down at her grounder bindings and underwear – she’s practically naked anyways, so is there much difference? But still, would rather clarify than assume. 

“I’m sorry, but I am not really sure what the protocol is? Would you prefer me to take this garment thing off here or outside?” questions Clarke. “Also, where are my clothes?”

To Clarke’s surprise she is met by a soft snicker.

“Well Clarke due to the state of your clothes they were burnt a few days ago.” Clarke stiffens at Niylah’s response. A change in demeanor Niylah picks up on and quickly clarifies, “but don’t worry, strict orders were given regarding your metal band. It was safely removed and sits in that wooden box on your desk.” Niylah instructs, pointing to the direction of the box.

The gesture releases the tension in Clarke’s shoulders. Her father’s watch means everything to her, it is the only thing she has left of his memory.

“As for your bath,” Niylah continues, “I will do whatever you are comfortable with. I can leave or stay, whatever you’d prefer.”

Clarke sighs. If the Skaikru have officially became grounders she might as well start emerging herself into the culture too. Quickly her clothes are discarded and she dips into the warm water. The bath feels remarkable. The water runs between her fingers as Clarke removes the dirt embedded under her nails. When she moves to her toes her attention goes to the hairy like carpet growing on her legs.

“Niylah?”

“mhmmm?” The handmaiden responds with a concentrated tone as she struggles to comb free Clarke’s tangled rats’ nest.

“I was wondering, could I get a blade?” Clarke feels Niylah’s hands pause for a moment before resuming the work on Clarke’s matted locks. “I mean not a large one or anything. Just one that I could use to shave away my hair.”

“Your hair? Clarke you have beautiful hair, why would you want to shave it off?”

Clarke lets out a genuine laugh. She probably should learn to explain herself better, the grounders tend to take everything so literally.

“No, not the hair on my head. I was hoping to shave the hair on my legs, underneath my arms and well…” Clarke looks down between her legs hoping Niylah will get the point, “…. and down there. It’s sort of a Skaikru custom.”

A faint smile crosses the handmaiden’s lips. From its sincerity, Clarke can tell Niylah is trying to make her feel less embarrassed about the odd request. 

“Hmmm Clarke of the Skai, you sure have some strange customs. I think it will be possible for us to find such a blade in the markets. I promise I will take you down there when Nyko clears you for such adventures.”

“When do you think that will be?”

“I am not a healer Clarke, but from your state I suspect it will only be a few more days of rest.”

“But I’ve already been resting for two whole days!” Clarke whines. For a third time her face flushes with embarrassment. She never intended for her voice to come across that whiny. It’s not that Clarke is ungrateful for the warm hospitality she has been shown, but it’s starting to feel very claustrophobic being confined to the limits of this room.

“Could we just go for a little walk? I promise I only need a _small_ one. We don’t even have to leave the building,” Clarke pleads. “Plus, I think it’s only fair I see the place I am being held for…how did Talia put it again? Oh Right, held for my _personal safety._ ” 

“Alright. I am sure Nyko would be willing to allow a little leniency.” Niylah replied, “but you must promise me you will refrain from doing anything foolish such as attempting to escape.”

“Promise.”

* * *

“So…” Clarke breaks the silence in the long hallway. “Where’s the Commander’s room?” Clarke doesn’t know why she asked, it’s not like she really wants to see her betrayer. Secretly she had hoped the Commander would have visited when Clarke was bound to bed rest. Clarke intended to play the ‘ _look what you did to me card’_ , but the Commander never did show. Clarke even requested, well more like demanded, to Talia that she be given an immediate audience with the Commander. A request that the Commander declined all _three_ times.

It probably was a good thing anyways, because truthfully, Clarke doesn’t know how she would have acted. Over a week ago Clarke had been screaming death threats into the blackness of the night, promising if she would ever see the Commander again, she’d slit her throat. Shivers run up Clarke’s spine at the thought of black like tar splashing up onto her face.

When it comes down to it, Clarke is not sure she could follow through. It’s not that she doesn’t want to see that traitorous bitch suffer, but Clarke knows she needs to think of the bigger picture. Her people are now part of the coalition, which means so is Clarke. If a Skaikru was caught slitting the Commander’s throat all her people would suffer the consequences of Clarke’s revenge.

_“If the other Skaikru can forgive and forget you can too,”_ Talia’s words echo through her thoughts. Clarke smirks. She has already vowed to never let herself trust the Commander again. She was fooled once into believing the relationship they had was something deeper than business. And maybe that’s why it hurts so much for Clarke.

To Clarke the betrayal was personal, but to the commander it was simply the better business deal for the grounder people. But it’s not that Clarke doesn’t understand making choices for her people. Clarke did pull the leaver after all. In fact, even knowing what she knows now, PTSD and all, Clarke would not even hesitate to make the same choice again. If it means her people will be bettered, Clarke will do it. So, in a way is she really any different than the Commander? That's something Clarke is still trying to decide.

“Clarke? Clarke are you even listening to me?” Niylah questions, “I said the Commander’s room is just over there. All the way down the hall and to your left. It’s the last room on the East wing.”

“Um oh right, yes, thanks.”

They walk further until they get to a set of stairs. Carefully Niylah leads Clarke down a long winding staircase; after what feels like one hundred floors later Clarke finds herself staring at a set of large wooden doors. Two intimidating guards stand rigid on either side of the entrance, both decorated with tattoos. Clarke offers a warm smile to the shorter guard, but he does not reciprocate the same level of friendliness.

“What’s behind there?” Clarke questions, slightly admiring her handmaiden’s profile.

“It’s the Commander’s war room. All formal meetings and guests are welcomed through those doors. It’s a magnificent room. When it is not in use, I’ll have to show it to you sometime.”

Clarke feels her heart skip a beat. If it’s in use… means _she’s_ in there. Clarke shakes the thought out of her head and gently grabs Niylah’s wrist. She pulls Niylah into the next room to escape from the proximity of those wooden doors. Clarke would rather be anywhere but near _her_.

Clarke finds herself speechless when they enter the next room. From floor to ceiling, massive shelves house rows and rows of books. The smell of paper meets Clarke’s nose and she cannot contain her excitement when she trails her fingers down the delicate spines. Its been too long since she has felt the joy of physical paper. So many different sizes and shapes; each filled with its own adventure.

In awe, Clarke begins to make her way through the rows. Each shelf is meticulously itemized by different genres. Upon a closer inspection, she notices the books are further sorted alphabetically by author. Clarke can’t help but smile. For the first time in her life she is in an actual library. Ironically, this is a scene she has only read about in books.

“Do you read?” said Clarke.

“No, I wish I could. Very few learn this skill. It is a luxury that a handmaiden does not have time for.”

Clarke notices the drop in the Niylah’s demeanor and instantly feels sorry for the girl.

“Well seeing as I won’t be getting around to too much, maybe I could read to you? I mean only if you would want me too. It’s been sort of… well… it’s been lonely this past while and I thi–”

“I’d absolutely love that Clarke.”

Clarke smiles and silently thanks Niylah for cutting her off and saving her from the embarrassment of rambling. She usually doesn’t ramble but somehow can’t help it in this girl’s presence.

“Here how about this one?” Nervously Clarke selects a random book off the shelf. The cover looks promising and to further approve her selection, she opens the front cover and silently reads the summary:

_"The hardest thing in life is to forgive. But hate is self-destructive. If you hate somebody, you're not hurting the person you hate, you're hurting yourself. Forgiveness is healing. - Louis Zamperini…."_

Clarke feels her face flush with conviction. Slamming closed the book; she quickly places it back on the shelf.

“Uh maybe let’s go to a different part of the library, I think we will have better luck finding something more suitable over here. Preferably one that isn’t in the self-help area.”

* * *

**_NIYLAH_ **

Niylah quietly adjusts her position on the couch to a more comfortable one. Pulling up the furs, she shifts a little closer to Clarke. Niylah relaxes her shoulders a bit and closes her eyes in attempt to focus on Wanheda’s every word. This is the third night Clarke has read to her. When Clarke had first asked to read together, she wasn’t sure what to expect. She originally presumed books were filled with boring words and drab histories of the old world, but she was quickly proven wrong. And after the first night Niylah was hooked. Not only on the book itself, but with the time spent in Clarke’s warm presence.

Last night the chapter ended on a cliff hanger and Niylah couldn’t wait until tonight to hear if the dragon, well what ever a dragon was, (Clarke had assured her it was like a lizard but ten thousand times bigger. She still has a hard time picturing it but figures it’s some type of ferocious _pauna_ ) would destroy the enemy army or be shot out of the sky.

When Niylah was first assigned to Wanheda’s service, she felt honoured but was also extremely nervous. Especially since Niylah had grown up learning the legends. The Commander of death’s main purpose is to harvest souls by ripping them out root and stem only to leave behind a lifeless corpse.

So like most members of the coalition, she had been terrified of Clarke. But over the past days Niylah has seen the girl behind the legendary title and truthfully, she has become quite fond of Clarke. Clarke is one of the most intelligent, selfless, and caring people Niylah has ever served. It is clear why the other leaders see Clarke as the Skai Heda. She is indeed legendary, but as Niylah has learnt Wanheda is not immune to the insufferable.

Two nights ago, Niylah found herself rushing into Clarke’s room alongside two heavily armed guards. She had expected to fight off an attacker, but instead found Clarke lost deep inside a night terror. Realizing there was no danger, Niylah dismissed the guards and crawled into the bed next to Clarke. Niylah had been hesitant at first but soon found her presence soothed Clarke’s cries. After Clarke’s terror passed Niylah placed a small kiss on top of her forehead and exited the room.

When she had stepped into the hallway, Niylah remembers being completely shocked when a firm hand grabbed her shirt and pushed her hard against the wall. The wind rushed out of her lungs and when Niylah was gasping for air the glimmer of the moonlight revealed two emerald eyes glaring her down. Before Niylah could recover or properly address the assailant, Niylah was soon overwhelmed by the hundreds of questions hissing out of the Commander’s clenched teeth.

_“How long has this been going on? Why did no one inform me? Does Nyko know? Is she in pain? Does this happen every night? Wait…what were you doing in there…?_ ”

“Look Niylah! I never noticed this before, but the author has included a few illustrations! And what do you know, this one is of a dragon!”

Niylah shakes her head as she comes back to the present, registering what Clarke said she leans in closer to get a better view. Being slightly out of it from her daydream, Niylah fails to properly gauge the strength of her movements and bumps right into Clarke. Niylah is overcome with horror when Clarke slams onto the sofa, sending the book flying out of two unsuspecting hands. Completely embarrassed, Niylah reaches across Clarke to pick up the book. Her heroic attempt quickly turns for the worst when Niylah loses her balance awkwardly overextending for the hardcover.

Both girls let out heightened gasps when they realize their compromising positions. Niylah feels the heat of a blush cascade down her face. She only meant to pick up the book, not fall on top of Clarke! Niylah’s panicked thoughts stop when her gaze connects with Clarke’s. Swallowing she feels her heart pick up speed. Niylah knows she should move off Wanheda. She shouldn’t be seducing a girl she was assigned to look out for, but for some reason Clarke has her in a trance. Completely paralyzed, Niylah finally breaks the stare when she internally reminds herself of her place: a simple handmaiden.

She clears her throat lifting herself off Clarke. To her surprise Clarke’s soft hand slips behind her neck, pulling Niylah back down. Niylah is in too deep to retreat now and feels a slight tinge of guilt when the need between her knees begins to grow.

The kiss starts off soft and delicate but as Clarke’s hands begin to roam Niylah’s backside, Niylah senses Clarke’s solitude in the forest has left her hungry for touch. Quickly Niylah begins to discard Clarke’s shirt. Fingertips slowly map Clarke’s smooth skin, leaving a trail of shivers erupting under Niylah’s gentle touch. When her fingers find the tie of Clarke’s chest bindings, Niylah’s stomach squeezes with excitement.

A slight pause gives Clarke a chance to reconsider, but eagerly Clarke gives a reassuring nod. Haphazardly the bindings are discarded onto the floor and the sight leaves her speechless. Of course, she has seen Clarke like this before, but that was during duty. This is something different. Not that Niylah really knows what _this_ is but whatever it is she knows she does not want it to stop.

Clarke draws in a deep breath from the path of teasing kisses placed along the nape of her neck. Driven by the increasing loudness of whimpers Niylah moves down and slowly tongues soft, playful circles around the rose-coloured bud. From Clarke's movements, Niylah knows Clarke is close. Carefully she adjusts her position and begins to grind into Clark giving her the friction desired.

Niylah is immediately rewarded for her efforts when Clarke’s nails pierce through the fabric of her shirt. When she hears a low, husky moan, Niylah knows she has hit her target and feels a wave of pleasure wash over her. Reaching down, Niylah begins to fumble with the drawstring of Clarke’s pants.

_“Knock, Knock”_

The sound of Clarke’s door flying open causes both girls to snap out of their moment of euphoria. Niylah quickly pulls the furs over Clarke’s exposed chest and turns to meet the intruder: a wide-eyed Talia.

“I am sorry for the intrusion Clarke,” Talia begins, “but I had taken it upon myself to bring up your dinner since I couldn’t find your _handmaiden_ anywhere. However, I now see Niylah has decided to skip her duties and sneak in a little taste of dessert for herself.” Talia swiftly moves to Clarke’s desk, setting down the tray. “Here is your proper dinner Clarke. I do hope you enjoy it as much as you did your appetizer.” Talia dips her head in respect, but before she dismisses herself her dark eyes intensify and it’s then Niylah knows she crossed a line, “Niylah if you would please, a word outside.”

Once outside the threshold of the room, Talia yanks Niylah into the shadows of the hall, smacking a hand firmly into the wall.

“ _Branwada_! What on earth were you thinking?! Polis is full of many girls! Many nice and beautiful girls! All who I am sure would love to have you as a lover in their bed!” Talia intensely whispers, “but somehow, somehow you decided it would be wise to pick _her?!_ Do you not know who she _is?!”_

Talia’s words cut Niylah like a knife. She has always known she is just a lowly handmaiden; how stupid was she to even think herself worthy enough to have Wanheda’s love.

“I-I wasn’t thinking. I lost myself in the moment and somehow I forgot that she is the great Wanheda.” Tears freely begin to fall down Niylah’s cheeks, “and I…well I am a just a humble handmaiden and sh-”

“My child” Talia interrupts, gently grazing away Niylah’s fallen tears. “This has nothing to do with what you do and who she is. You are a kind girl. A good girl. A girl who loves with her whole heart and never holds back.

I love you child as if you were my own; I want what’s best for you. I want you to find love. A good, pure love that you deserve, but I warn you if you choose to chase after Clarke it will only end in your own heartbreak. Clarke might not realize it yet, but her heart is firmly held by another. Tell me child while you were happily on top of Clarke did you not realize _when_ that room was used last used? Did you not take a second to think of the unspoken significance of Clarke being placed in Costia’s old room?”

Realization suddenly washes over Niylah sending her into a wave of emotions. First the guilt of betrayal, then the urge to puke, then an intense flare of fear, “Talia… I… she’s going to skin me in my sleep!” 

A soft chuckle escapes Talia’s lips, “My child did you force yourself upon Wanheda?”

“No! I would never.”

“Then you will live to see another day. I have known our Commander since she was just a young little _goufa_ and as much as she is fierce, she is just. I have a feeling our Commander loves Clarke dearly, just like she had Costia. But our Commander would never openly declare claim on someone if that same love wasn’t reciprocated. Clarke is healing my child. Yes, she has made a promising recovery physically, but emotionally? Well there are still many unattended wounds.” Talia softly chuckles before continuing, “Clarke has proven herself to be a stubborn little one. But before she can realize what her heart really wants, I suspect she needs to learn how to forgive. Now come my child, it’s getting late. I promise you’ll find love. But next time, try not to choose someone else’s girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Clarke's journey in the woods has left her, well, a little touched starved (I mean maybe we all can relate to this at some level thanks to COVID). Which is why I felt that Clarke's choice with Niylah would not be an unreasonable one. But I just wanted to reiterate in case there is any doubts. This will eventually be a Clexa story jam packed with all sorts of emotions. These characters are going cross paths. It will happen in either this timeline or when we get back to the present, they will have their moments. Or Perhaps it will happen sooner than later, who knows - see you Wednesday ;)


	6. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niylah confronts Clarke about their relationship. Lexa on the other hand is confronted by Anya. Emotions are heightened as Queen Nia and her small party are due to arrive in Polis any minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading xo - LMS

**28 days since the fall of the Mountain**

**_CLARKE_ **

From her spot in the garden side courtyard, Clarke watches with jealousy as Polis villagers busily go about their day. She has been fully recovered for a whole week, but somehow finds herself still a captive, bound to the boundaries of the Capitol’s tower and its courtyard. She never thought Polis would be so alive and she longs to explore the markets, meet the people, and see all those the sights Niylah has described to her.

Clarke’s cheeks become warm at the thought of last night’s activities. She had no intentions of it happening, but somehow Clarke let herself get lost in the moment. It’s not that Clarke regrets it, Niylah is quite attractive, but the whole ordeal has made her a little confused.

The kiss was exceptional, perfect, and pleasuring in everyway. But perfection aside, Clarke feels unsettled. It frustrates her because she can’t seem to put her finger on exactly why she feels this way, but it’s as if there is a piece missing. Clarke’s thoughts are interrupted when the park bench dips slightly.

“Hi Clarke,” said Niylah, awkwardly fumbling with her hands as if she doesn’t know where to place them. “I am sorry I have been avoiding you today, but I think we should talk about what happened last night.”

“Sure.” Clarke gulps nervously. She knows what’s coming will be a bitter pill to swallow.

“I don’t really know how to say this. I really do like you Clarke. I think you are an amazing person and I cannot wait to get to know you more, but just as _friends._ ”

Niylah’s gaze drops to the worn cobblestone; tears brim in her hazel eyes. Clarke takes Niylah’s hand into her own in an act of comfort. Clarke has experienced rejection before and knows what it feels like to be on both sides of this conversation. It sucks, but Clarke knows it’s for the best. Niylah deserves someone who is committed with nothing but their whole heart.

“Friends,” confirms Clarke.

The awkward tension that had just been present soon dissipates and the conversation begins to flow with ease. At first Clarke asks about the markets, then they discuss clan boundaries, and eventually they begin debating who is the best character in their book.

Before too long, the rumblings of Clarke’s stomach reminds both girls of the time. Just as they are about to part ways Niylah digs into her bag, presenting Clarke with a small box.

“What’s this?” questions Clarke.

“It’s the razor you requested a while ago.”

Clarke opens the lid and removes a small blade. Carefully she inspects its sharpness by lightly shaving the top of her fingernail. It’s perfect.

“It’s beautiful, thank you Niylah.”

“You’re welcome. But please be careful, it’s incredibly sharp. I would feel somewhat responsible if you accidentally cut your finger off or something.”

“Well I will be sure to yield it with care. Thanks again Niylah. For everything I truly mean it.”

Clarke leans in and places a light kiss of thanks on Niylah’s cheek. _Friends._

“Wait Clarke, one more thing! I know this may be out of line and not really my place to ask. But have you spoken to the Commander since you’ve been in Polis?”

Instantly Clarke’s mood sours, “No. Why would I? I have already requested an audience three times already; each being denied. I guess she has better things to do then to see me. And to be honest, I don’t really see the point now. As soon as I get the clear from Nyko, I’m out of here!”

“Oh okay, I was just wondering. I’m sorry if my question was out of line. Anyways I should probably go before Talia finds me slacking again. Enjoy your lunch.”

A strange twist of emotions stirs in Clarke’s stomach. To be honest Clarke has been suppressing all things Commander. After her third failed attempt to get an audience, Clarke had decided to forget about it. The Commander is nothing but a heartless bitch anyways.

Clarke’s emotions begin to surge as she stomps back towards the Commander’s tower. Maybe the rejection has impacted her more than she initially thought. Or maybe being confined to these cage-like boundaries has caused her to finally lose her mind. Clarke isn’t sure what’s motivating her annoyed steps, but one thing she knows this has gone on too long. Enough is enough, Clarke is going to be given a dam audience and she’s going to get it _now_. 

* * *

**_LEXA_ **

Her morning meditation was supposed to give her guidance, but Lexa finds herself feeling more uptight than she felt at sunrise. Her scouts tell her that within the hour, Trikru warriors will be marching the small Azgeda party through Polis’s gates.

Lexa still stands firmly by her decision, but that doesn’t mean the nervousness gnawing at her chest has stopped. Azgeda is known for its unpredictability and ruthlessness. They are shrewd, conniving people who wouldn’t hesitate to shed blood if it meant bettering their position. Something Lexa had experienced firsthand when they were at war.

She knows it will not be wise to push Nia’s boundaries, but at the same time she must remind Azgeda who is in command. It will be mentally exhausting to maintain such a delicate balance and she mustn’t let herself become distracted or the whole coalition could face the consequences.

Lexa makes her way to her balcony. She needs some fresh air, and what better way to clear her head then to overlook her gardens and city’s landscape. The merchants and store owners below briskly make last minute touches to their stores. The Ice Queen may have a terrifying reputation, but her lavish lifestyle and deep pockets are not so secret either. She chuckles to herself at the thought; if she had been a merchant, she probably would have liked to sell candles. But as fate would have it, destiny chose a different path for her.

Her eyes follow the twists and turns of the old cobblestone path until landing on a certain someone Lexa has been avoiding. Swallowing a newly formed lump, Lexa notices how deep in thought Clarke is and Lexa finds herself wondering what is on her mind. Since Clarke has been brought to Polis, Lexa has found herself unable to concentrate. The emotional side of Lexa wants nothing more than to run up to Clarke, throw herself at her feet and beg for forgiveness for turning her into Wanheda. But of course, the Commander can not be seen doing such things.

Not only would such an open display be weak, but the Commander can never bow to another. For the Commander is the law and no one is above the law. Plus, Lexa cannot be tempted with distractions that could take her mind off Azgeda’s negotiations. She owes it to her people to have a clear mind when she meets with Queen Nia. Which is why Lexa has been avoiding Clarke. Her people come first, they always have and always will.

“ _But Clarke kom Skaikru is now a part of your people,”_ Lexa silently reminds herself. Yes, it is true. Now that the Skaikru are under her protection it makes it more possible for her to make her case to take Clarke as her _houman –_ well that is if Clarke will ever want her again and Lexa can force herself to get over her own personal fears.

Lexa feels the pain of the past slowly emerge from the shadows of her mind. She had loved once. She let her guard down and allowed Costia to get close to her. Costia got to know Lexa, the real Lexa behind the Commander’s façade and because of that she was stolen. Stolen from Lexa in the middle night by the same Ice Queen now minutes away from Polis’ gates. 

_“A head for a head,”_ Lexa recalls the words she had once told Nia when the Ice Queen begged for a peace treaty. Lexa thought when she struck her sword down onto Roan’s broad shoulders, she would feel Costia’s death being avenged. But when his lifeless body crumbled to the floor, Lexa felt nothing but the hole Costia left in her heart. As time went on, it became too much to bear. Lexa knew she would never survive such pain again, so decided to recognize love for what it really was: a weakness.

The sound of footsteps echoing from behind her pulls Lexa out of her daydream. Lexa does not bother to arm herself since she knows the sound of those steps. The owner is someone she has always deeply admired.

“Hello Anya.”

“Lexa, what has you in such a brooding mood?” Before she has a chance to answer, Anya follows Lexa’s intense stare. “Ah I see. The Skai Princess. Tell me my former _seken_ , when will you finally admit your feelings for the Skai girl?”

A cheeky grin crosses Anya’s face. She knows this is a sensitive topic for Lexa but considering the nature of their relationship, Lexa allows certain boundaries to be pushed.

“I do not feel such things Anya. You know what love is. I cannot serve my peo-”

“Then tell me Lexa, why are your knuckles grasped so tightly around your pommel? If you truly feel nothing for this _ordinary_ Skai girl, why are your eyes currently sending daggers deep into her handmaiden’s chest? Or tell me this, if you don’t have feelings for Clarke then why have you forced Nyko to lie to her about the limitations of her recovery? The poor girl has been forced to remain within the confines of her room. A room you and I both know holds a great significance to you!”

Lexa stiffens. Out of anyone Anya does know her the best. Lexa opens her mouth to defend herself, but Anya quickly cuts her off.

“And don’t even get me started on the personal guards you have assigned to her. Does she even know? Just look at them hiding around her; Clarke would be embarrassed! I could see one or two, but ten? Lexa, she has more guards than you! I think we both can agree this is hardly necessary.”

“Wanheda…” Lexa inhales a shaky breath trying to sort out her words. “Is very important to the survival of the coalition.”

“For the coalition or for _you_?”

“Anya I already told you, love is weakness.”

“Lexa, I will never understand the burdens you must carry as Commander, but I have watched how the weight of leadership has change you.” Anya gently squeezes Lexa’s shoulders in a form of comfort. “You hide it well, but I know what it has done to you. The Commander needs to be strong for her people, but tell me, how can the Commander be strong if she herself is suffering?”

Lexa’s chest constricts. She hates that she has allowed herself to build such impenetrable walls. She starts imagining how it would feel to be vulnerable with someone again, someone perfect like Clarke. How Clarke would be the only one in the world to see her as both the Commander and Lexa. Through the burdens of being Commander, Clarke would be her rock. Quickly Lexa squashes her fantasies by reminding herself of the past.

Clarke could suffer the same fate as Costia. Something, Lexa could never live through again. The thought of losing Clarke buckles Lexa’s legs sending her crumbling down before a surprised Anya. In an unprecedented display of emotions, tears flow freely flow down Lexa’s face.

“I won’t survive this time Anya. I can’t let Clarke in only for her to be snatched away from me. I don’t think my heart would be strong enough this time.”

“Lexa….” Anya begins. She pauses, running her hand over her weapon belt as if struggling to find the right words to calm Lexa’s rare emotional display. “I promise I will protect her. If it will help, I can personally watch over her as I would you. Lexa please, just look at yourself. Please Le-”

“ _Em pleni_!” shouts Lexa. An explosion she immediately regrets, “I’m sorry Anya, but please leave me alone. Azgeda is coming soon and I cannot do this right now. Just leave me be.”

From the exchanged glance, Lexa knows Anya understands. After the door creaks closed, Lexa pulls herself back up onto her feet and tries to regain control over the persistent tears sliding down her cheeks. This is the exact type of distraction she has been trying to avoid. Closing her eyes, she attempts to compose herself. When Lexa is a few minutes into meditating she hears cautious footsteps quietly gliding along the tile.

“I meant what I said Anya, get o…”

The lingering smell of vanilla swirled in with a hint of cinnamon immediately paralyzes Lexa. She knows who is here and she cannot be more terrified.

* * *

**_CLARKE_ **

_“What am I doing?”_ thought Clarke. If Clarke is sure about one thing; this was not planned very well. But here Clarke is standing behind a very rigid Commander all the while a new razor sits tightly in her hand. Clarke feels a range of emotions surge through her chest: anger, hurt, betrayal, hate. All different feelings getting in the way of any form of rational thinking. An explosive combination that makes Clarke dangerously unpredictable.

Clarke inches closer until the shallow breaths of the Commander can be heard. Clarke’s erratic behaviour is unsettling even to herself, but what Clarke finds most peculiar is that the Commander does not even move – leaving her back completely exposed to an approaching threat.

Clarke loses herself to her emotions. As if on autopilot Clarke’s hand wraps around the Commander firmly placing the blade into the nape of her neck. Clarke knows it would take the Commander less than two seconds to disarm her, but she doesn’t. Instead the Commander gently wraps her fingers around Clarke’s. Keeping the blade at her neck, the Commander slowly turns to face her.

Clarke’s breath catches in her chest when she meets her betrayers’ eyes. Of all the things Clarke had been expecting this was not one of them. Emerald eyes that have always resembled such strength are nothing but broken. The Commander releases the gentle hold on Clarke’s wrist giving Clarke full autonomy to decide the fate to come. She expects the Commander to take a step back. Instead, the Commander leans further into the blade sending a black trickle of blood down her slender neck.

“Do it Clarke.”

Clarke stands in disbelief. For the past month, this is the exact moment Clarke has been waiting for. Clarke had declared it; screamed it violently into the night. Vowing to slit the Commander’s throat herself, but for some reason Clarke is frozen in place.

“Do it Clarke.” The Commander leans even further into the blade, “hate me Clarke.”

Clarke wants nothing more than to make the cut, but she can’t move. If Clarke hates the Commander so much why can’t she do it? The choice is hers, yet here Clarke is nothing but a paralytic statue.

“Do it Clarke, I deserve it,” the Commander softly pleads.

Dropping to her knees, the Commander doesn’t even bother to control the tears from sliding down her face.

“I left a piece of my heart at a mountain’s base and everyday I hate myself for it. I saved my people in exchange for an unspeakable price and for that I cannot live seeing you suffer the consequence of my duty. I didn’t mean to turn you into this. I beg of you Clarke if this…” The Commander pauses, pointing towards the blade, “is what it takes to for your damaged soul to find your peace than so be it.”

Clarke is astounded. The raw vulnerability the Commander is exposing is a stirring a strange feeling of intimacy Clarke can’t even begin to explain. It’s like Clarke can feel the inner workings of the Commander’s soul – painful, unhealed wounds that stem just as deep as Clarke’s own scars. How could Clarke possibly be so angry at someone who is tortured by past demons just as dark as her own?

_“But she left you to die,”_ Clarke stiffens at the mental reminder. It is true, Clarke had been left to die but looking back down at the broken Commander, Clarke finds herself on a new thought process. Clarke wasn’t the only one who lost her soul at the mountain. It seems that there’s a side of the Commander that was lost too. Lexa. The real Lexa, the young girl plagued with a heavy burden of leadership, something Clarke knows all too well. 

Clarke chose the life of her people over those in the Mountain. Just as Lexa chose her people over Clarke’s. Just like Lexa, Clarke had made the better business deal for her people. At these thoughts Clarke feels herself pale, how hypocritical.

“I’m so sorry. Please let me help you find your peace,” Lexa softly pleads again.

The feeling of a hard-lump forms in Clarke’s already tight throat. Hearing Lexa’s pleas makes Clarke realize peace won’t be found in Lexa’s death, but the exact opposite. Feelings she tried so desperately to leave behind in the forest come rushing back. Clarke clenches her jaw at the realization she has always suspected but has wanted so badly to be wrong. Lexa is the missing piece. Blinking away tears, Clarke drops the blade and wraps a tight embrace around Lexa.

“I want to hate you…” said Clarke, burying her face deep into Lexa’s bloodstained neck. “I want to hate you so dam much, but I just can’t. I thought if I could hurt you, if I could make you suffer by my hand, it would chase away the ghosts that haunt my sleep.”

Clarke tightens her hold, “But this? This has absolutely destroyed me. You’re wrong Lexa, my peace won’t be found in your death.” Clarke gently cups the sides of Lexa’s face, “I don’t think I can trust you…not yet at least, but I cannot live on the ground without my missing piece. Do you understand what I am saying? You have the power to destroy me. If you ever betray me again Lexa. I-I wil-”

“I won’t.” Lexa adjusts her position, bringing Clarke back up to her feet. Holding Clarke’s gaze, Lexa wipes away a stray tear sliding down Clarke’s cheek before dropping back to a kneeling position. The symbolism of the gesture speaks louder than any words could ever portray. “I swear fealty to you Clarke Kom Skaikru. I vow to treat your needs as my own and I promise your people will always be my people. Unless you wish otherwise, I promise as long as my heart is beating it will always be yours.”

Curling her fingers around Lexa’s trembling hand, Clarke pulls Lexa back up to her feet. No more words are spoken, but from the look in Lexa’s eyes, Clarke knows Lexa meant every word. Her trust in Lexa hasn’t been magically restored. Bridges take time to rebuild themselves. But at least the first step towards forgiveness has been made. Talia would be proud.

A loud horn blasts through the air announcing the arrival of the Azgeda guests. Whatever has been left unspoken will have to linger in silence a little longer. Clarke notices a stark shift in Lexa’s demeanour.

Lexa begins to pace. Pinching the bridge of her nose Lexa looks back at Clarke, then out towards the city’s gates, then back to Clarke again. Clarke observes how the vulnerability in Lexa’s eyes is now replaced with uneasiness, or perhaps it’s nervousness. Clarke decides she’s not sure.

Another blast blows in the distance making Lexa’s spine rigid. When Lexa looks again at Clarke, Clarke realizes Lexa is long gone and before her stands nothing but a fierce Commander.

* * *


	7. The Wolves Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azgeda has arrived. Polis is on their toes waiting to see if Queen Nia is sincere about joining the coalition or if she has a more sinister motive. And now that Lexa and Clarke have started their journey to rebuild trust, Clarke learns a few things about Lexa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! So this chapter has a lot going on so I thought splitting it up between sat/sun will help really take in the Clexa scenes. This chapter also introduces Anya's perspective. I really liked writing her POV because I found the sister like connection she has with Lexa gave another dimension to Lexa that no other character could. So I hope as the story unfolds you enjoy seeing Lexa through a different lens too . 
> 
> Stay tuned for Pt.2 tomorrow and as always, thanks for reading - LMS

**_ANYA_ **

Anya shifts the weight of her stance, easing the grip on her pommel. She’s nervous and she’s trying her best not to show it. It’s no secret the history the Coalition shares with Azgeda isn’t the friendliest, but so far, this meeting has gone without a casualty. Anya relaxes slightly at the thought, but this meeting is far from over. There is still so much more Azgeda wants to discuss with the Commander.

Anya stares at Azgeda’s newly appointed ambassador. Chester is his name? Anya doesn’t remember. But that doesn’t surprise her especially since he seems like a bland person anyways. Plus, she rarely has patience for the political types. A warrior for instance is straight up and avoids playing mind games; politicians however, can never be taken at face value. They are always scheming and playing childlike games in order to gain Heda’s favour – which annoys Anya. But even if this Chester fellow seems bland, he at least appears to respect authority. For that he can remain in Anya’s good books for now.

“Heda please look at these maps I have had drawn up for you,” eagerly Chester unrolls the paper presenting the maps to Lexa. “I hope you will agree that these are the most efficient routes for trade. If this pleases you, I promise I will personally oversee the building of trading posts along the villages bordering the other clans. It is our hope that…”

Anya drifts her attention away from the boring conversation and decides to scan the room for potential threats. She must admit, the warriors the Ice Queen have brought are indeed fierce. As promised, Nia has only brought twenty, but the small numbers shouldn’t allude to any lesser of a threat. Anya notices each warrior has earned their brands; facial scars exclusively worn by Azgeda’s best warriors. If Anya remembers correctly, to earn such marks is great achievement. A true sign of sworn loyalty to the Ice Queen.

Anya takes in the presence of the Ice Queen. Her cold, hard stare alone proves she really is the Queen of ice. Nia’s pale blue eyes hold no hint of kindness. Their lack of warmth sends a shiver racing down Anya’s spine. Her dirty blonde hair has been pulled back into a simple, yet elegant braid and on top of her locks rests a crown made of bone.

Anya thinks the crown is well fitting for a Queen with Nia’s reputation. It is no secret Nia is a dictator who uses the threat of death as a mechanism to remain in power. Rumours say that if the wrong ear overhears any ill words about the Queen, tongues will be ripped from one’s mouth. The only reward for treason is brutality.

Anyone suspected of being involved with any form of rebellion will be slowly flayed alive, sometimes by Nia herself. Of course, that is after they have watched their family suffer the same fate first. It has also been said that Nia will not think twice before slaying villages if it will help her stay in control. Anya prays that whoever Nia decides to take in as an heir will be somewhat more humane. But what worries Anya the most is that Nia is incredibly smart and unpredictable. Which is what makes her truly a dangerous threat.

Anya knows Lexa is taking a risk by welcoming such a devil into the Coalition. But unlike Titus, Anya agrees with Lexa. Keeping enemies close allows the Coalition to observe the Ice Nation’s true motives. So far, the Ice Queen has been unexpectedly pleasant, which Anya finds slightly worrisome. Anya can’t put her finger on it, but she cannot help but feel there is a more sinister force at play here but has yet to get any indication as to what. Anya sighs, all she can do is trust that Lexa knows what she is doing.

In Anya’s peripherals Lexa’s posture slightly stiffens. Glancing over to Lexa, Anya notices that for a moment Lexa’s expression shows a hint of worry before quickly falling back into the Commander’s mask. To anyone else Lexa’s loss of composure would have went unnoticed, but Anya has known Lexa long enough that Lexa cannot hide emotions from her. Anya looks across the room to see what has caused Lexa’s reaction.

“ _Oh, for fuck’s sake!”_ thought Anya. Apparently the Skai Princess has decided to slip into this meeting. Anya rolls her eyes. A typical Skaikru move, getting into places they do not belong. By no means does Anya hate the girl. Clarke is a gifted leader which earns Anya’s respect, but it’s the Skaikru’s complete ignorance to grounder life that annoys her most. 

At least Clarke is not being a complete _branwada_ and is keeping her presence somewhat discrete against the back-wall’s shadows. Well discrete to everyone, but Lexa. Anya had suspected the Skai Princess was important to Lexa. But after Lexa’s unexpected emotional display earlier today, important is an understatement. This Skai Princess means much more to Lexa than Anya had ever initially thought, and this worries Anya.

Anya remembers how Costia’s death almost destroyed Lexa. There was a time Anya thought she would lose Lexa, but thankfully the Commander inside of Lexa had pulled her back on track. Anya has yet to see any intimate interaction between Lexa and Clarke, but from the slight switch in Lexa’s demeanour Anya can now see how much power Clarke holds over her. A hold that not even Costia had possessed. Anya herself does not believe that love is weakness; she wants to encourage Lexa to seek after Clarke. But then again, there is a part of her that fears that Lexa could be right this time. If something were to happen to Clarke, Anya’s not sure Lexa would survive.

“Thank you, Chester, for your presentation tonight,” said Lexa, turning to address the others in the room. “It is clear you all understand what it means to be a member of this Coalition. I have no doubt Azgeda will become one of our greatest assets. In three nights, we will officially make Azgeda our thirteenth clan. The Coalition serves to protect its members from _all_ that seek to destroy it. Thank you, Queen Nia, for requesting this audience. There is power in numbers and I trust our new relationship will make Azgeda prosper.”

_“_ To our prosperous future,” replies the Ice Queen dipping into a deep bow. When Nia rises, Anya shivers. The sinister like smile curling on Nia's pale lips is enough to make even Anya's blood run cold. 

* * *

**_CLARKE_ **

The warmth from the fireplace cascades over Clarke as she adjusts her position on the couch. She pauses to inspect her work; it has been over an hour of sketching and her image is finally coming to life. Turning the sketch book to a different angle, she proceeds to blend some of the lines.

The other day Clarke mentioned to Talia how much she missed drawing. Clarke had thought nothing more of the conversation until the following evening when she found a pleasant surprise: a bundle of art supplies neatly sitting on her desk. 

The sketch book itself is beyond beautiful and running a hand over the blank pages, Clarke can feel the quality of the paper. Bound with dark leather it has a gold clasp that keeps the pages securely closed when not in use. On the back of the book a _Trigedasleng_ phrase is delicately inscribed into the leather that reads: “ _gon Ai Skai hainofi.”_

When Clarke first got the gift, she didn’t bother asking anyone what the phrase meant. For some reason she found herself curious to its meaning earlier this evening. Clarke originally thought the gift was from Niylah, but immediately knew otherwise when Talia translated the words: _“For my sky princess.”_

Clarke rolls her eyes, of course the gift came from Lexa. It’s an ironic thought. Had Clarke asked for a translation when she first received the book, she knows she would have thrown it straight into the fire. But now instead of letting it lay waste to flames, Clarke finds herself sketching the very someone she had once sworn to hate for the rest of her life.

Clarke proudly looks at the progress of her portrait. It is an illustration capturing an authoritative sense of power and ferocity. The inspiration came from tonight’s meeting and the focal point of the sketch is the Commander sitting high on top her throne.

Clarke knows she will probably get in trouble for sneaking in, especially since Lexa had made Clarke promise to stay out of trouble. But in Clarke’s defense, Lexa did not specify _what_ trouble was so Clarke decided to take the gamble.

She has wanted to see the inside of war room for sometime now. Plus who wouldn’t be curious to see if the lengthy rumours of the Ice Queen proved true? Clarke shudders remembering how cold the Queen’s stare had felt. When Clarke’s gaze locked with the older woman, the only thing Clarke found was ice. There was also something else behind her smile that made Clarke feel uneasy. It felt wicked, almost disturbing. At the memory, goosebumps race down the length of her arms. Lexa is right; the Ice Queen is a sociopath.

A firm knock disrupts Clarke’s concentration. Clarke has never had visitors this late before, but from today’s events, she has a good inclination of who is impatiently waiting outside the room. Opening the door, Clarke’s suspicion is proven correct. Lexa’s posture is incredibly straight, hands are clasped, and her face is void of all emotion. Clarke internally winces. Her visitor is all parts Commander and no parts Lexa.

“Clarke, may I come in?” There’s no time to answer. The Commander strides in before Clarke has a chance to reply. Clarke immediately feels the burn of Lexa’s stare. “What were you thinking Clarke?! I made you promise that you would stay out of trouble! But somehow you thought lurking in the war room’s shadows was a harmless alternative?!”

“Well I am sorry _Commander_ ; I didn’t think it was going to be such an issue,” said Clarke slamming the door closed. “What did you expect? I have been cooped up as a prisoner for so long now, forgive me for wanting to do something other than sit in this room!”

“Not an issue?! Clarke, before I went into that meeting, I told you about the risk. I did not know how Azgeda was going to react!” Lexa pauses, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I told you I needed to focus, what if they decided to attack?!”

“But they didn’t! So, no harm done right?” Clarke cringes at the childish comeback. 

“No harm done?! _She_ saw you Clarke! Nia looked you right in the eyes and she saw you. Did you not hear me when I said this meeting was an _exclusive_ one?” Lexa stops pacing, once Clarke nods the pacing continues. “So, I am sure you can understand how it looked to Azgeda that a Skai girl can somehow show up to an exclusive meeting unannounced?! What kind of message do you think that sends?!”

Clarke feels suddenly ashamed of her selfish actions. If she demands Lexa to rebuild trust shouldn't she be trying to do the same? Or worse yet, had Clarke not been listening to Lexa when Lexa was on her knees, crying from the suffering Clarke’s hatred caused? Was Clarke that dense she forgot the tragic story of Costia and how it was the Ice Queen herself who stole her from Lexa? Blinking back tears Clarke finally understands the words Lexa is struggling to directly say. Clarke is important to Lexa and now the Ice Queen may realize this too – Lexa’s absolute nightmare. 

“I am sorry Lexa. I really am. I was being selfish, and I did not think through the implications of my actions. I will use my head next time. Please forgive me.”

Clarke can tell Lexa is shocked by the sincerity of the apology. Lexa most likely was anticipating a little more fight from Clarke, but instead was met with understanding. From the way Lexa’s shoulders relax Clarke can tell the Commander façade is finally melting away.

“You are forgiven Clarke kom Skaikru. You are very important to _Polis_ Clarke. Please remember this the next time you have the urge to do something so foolish.”

Without thinking Clarke strides towards Lexa and wraps her arms firmly around the taller girl. Lexa stiffens, but soon relaxes into the embrace. Clarke knows her movements were sudden and reminds herself she shouldn’t rush things. They both need time to reflect on the intimate conversation they had shared earlier today. Wounds have only just begun to heal.

“Lexa?” questions Clarke looking up to a much softer gaze than before, “Do you think you… well I mean only if you have time of course, could show me Polis tomorrow? I have been longing to see the markets and experience the Polis you had once told me about. Plus, I would love to see if I can find some paint. Which reminds me.” Clarke gestures to her leather-bound book, “Thank you for the thoughtful sketch book. The gift means a lot.”

Lexa’s chest puffs out with slight pride. Clarke notices Lexa look over to the leather-bound book and suddenly Clarke becomes self-conscious. What if Lexa asks to see her drawings when the drawings inside are _only_ of Lexa. When Lexa does not pursue the idea, she sighs in relief. 

“Of course Clarke. I am sure we will be able to find supplies that meet your expectations. Thank you for letting me see you tonight. I trust you will sleep well.”

When Lexa turns to exit the room, Clarke cannot help herself. In a sudden surge of unexpected feelings Clarke reaches out. Grabbing at Lexa’s wrist she pulls a stunned Lexa back to her. When close enough, Clarke stands on her tiptoes and places a soft kiss onto the Lexa’s cheek. 

“Thank you, Lexa. Thank you for everything and thank you for showing me kindness when I didn’t deserve it. Have a good night Commander.”

\---

With a soft click, Clarke disappears behind the large oak door. In the quiet hallway, Lexa stands completely dumfounded as her heart slams wildly into the walls of her chest. One thing is certain, this Skai princess will surely be the death of her.

* * *

**_CLARKE_ **

Clarke is in awe of Polis. She has spent many days watching the village dwellers work from her West side balcony, but being submersed into the culture, is a whole different experience. Clarke feels alive from the excitement; the streets are unbelievably crowded and celebrations from the mountain’s defeat are still thriving in the atmosphere.

Until now, Clarke had no idea how legendary Wanheda was to the people. When Lexa led her down the first street Clarke had thought the people were waving and bowing to the Commander. But as soon as Clarke started getting showered with gifts, she realized the attention was directed towards her.

Now that they are on their third street, Clarke is convinced all of Polis knows of her and Lexa’s adventure. As they walk, crowds begin to collect in the street. Many chant praises and children race to the front as if hoping to get a glimpse of their saviour’s sky-blue eyes and sun kissed hair.

When the crowd is at its thickest, a middle age woman takes her opportunity to push past the Commander’s guards and embrace Clarke. Out of the corner of Clarke’s eye she notices how Lexa instinctively reaches for her sword but soon relaxes when the woman starts laying kisses on Clarke’s hands. Tears cloud the woman’s dark brown eyes as she praises Clarke in the grounder’s native language. Clarke has no idea what is being said, but a quick look to Lexa reassures her that whatever the woman is crying about must be a good thing.

By the sixth street the crowds begin to thin as villagers and merchants return to their normal duties. Allowing the warriors around Clarke and Lexa to finally stand at ease. When hardly any more eyes are interested in the pair, Lexa steps noticeably closer to Clarke.

“They love you Clarke,” said Lexa. “They may never know the sacrifice you have made for them, but Polis will be forever grateful for Wanheda. I am sure they will sing your praise to the end of your days.”

Clarke feels herself blush at the words, but still feels slightly torn. Never once has Clarke thought herself a hero. How can killing hundreds of innocent people make her anything but a cold-blooded murderer? To the grounders she is a saviour but if the mountain men were alive, she would be considered a monster. At least there’s one thing both sides can agree on: she is a soul stealer.

A slight pressure on Clarke’s lower back pulls Clarke from her thoughts. It takes a moment, but Clarke finally registers Lexa’s touch gently guiding her into a small shop. The shop isn’t very big. It’s spacious enough for only herself, Lexa, and a few other guards to comfortably stand inside.

Soft snores can be heard from the back corner. The owner, who is passed out on a worn-out rocking chair, is completely oblivious to the customers in his shop. Clarke wonders how he even makes a living if he trusts people not to steal things. But then she remembers hearing that the consequences of sticky fingers is losing a hand. 

Clarke carefully looks at all the little knickknacks carefully placed on old wooden shelves. She realizes she never did clarify with Lexa about the rules of shopping in Polis. Regardless she assumes the old-world phrase: ‘if you break it, you buy it’ probably applies here too. And since Clarke technically has no money, she silently vows to keep her hands in her pockets.

Many items appear to be from the old world. She recognizes old DVD’s, books, and a few toys. There’s even a few electronic gadget type things that she is sure Raven would love but Clarke is not sure what purpose they could serve. She wonders if the grounders even know what half this stuff was once used for. 

“Here Clarke,” Lexa points to a small section of the shop. “I believe this is what you were looking for.”

Lexa holds out a few different types of paint brushes which Clarke readily accepts.

“Thank you Commander,” said Clarke as she examines the soft bristles. “The quality of these are incredible. I can already tell this by the weighting of each brush and the softness of the hairs.”

“So they will serve you well Clarke?”

Clarke nods eagerly. She tries her best to contain the childlike grin threatening to form on her face. After last night’s conversation, Clarke doesn’t want any observing eyes to see her openly display any affection towards the Commander. So instead her face remains as expressionless as possible. 

“I am no expert in this field, but here are the canvases. I had Egon…” Lexa looks towards the sleeping man before continuing, “make them for you. I wasn’t certain what sizes you would prefer so I had him make a variety.”

Once again Clarke struggles to refrain from showing her excitement. Biting the inside of her lip, the threat of another smile fades. Reaching over she carefully runs her hand down the edge of the board. The canvas is of perfect texture.

“ _Smash!”_

Both the girls direct their attention to the obtrusive sound to see a guilty guard looking down at a broken vase.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Egon springs out of his rocking chair and in his sleep filled haze does not register who is in his shop. “I close my eyes for a few mome…Heda, Wanheda. My apologies for my insolence.” Egon dips into a deep bow. His face red with embarrassment.

“No need Egon. I was just showing Wanheda the items we had discussed earlier this week. Has the package arrived?”

Clarke feels her chest flutter. She just told Lexa about her desire to get paints yesterday, but Lexa has had discussions with Egon earlier this week?

“ _Talia,”_ Clarke thought. _“She just can’t keep a secret.”_

“ _Sha_ Heda, of course. It arrived two days ago,” said Egon.

“And everything I have asked for has been delivered?”

“ _Sha_ Heda. Only the finest as you requested. I had my assistants scour the entire the coalition for the breadth of colours you desired. They only accepted the best; I think you will be most pleased with the richness each colour possesses.” Egon passes a box to Lexa for further inspection. “I promise you they are truly the best quality paints I have ever seen.”

Lexa takes the box from Egon and quickly inspects the contents before giving them to Clarke. If Clarke wasn’t speechless before she sure is now. The box contains at least twenty-four different colours and Egon is right. The richness of each colour is truly remarkable. Clarke is trying her best to conceal her excitement but cannot wait any longer. Removing one of the lids she dips her fingers into the navy paint.

The paint is cool to her touch and from the consistency it is true. These are incredible. Even in the Ark she never had such a luxury. Clarke is moved by Lexa’s thoughtfulness. She wants nothing more than to thank Lexa and Egon, but again she isn’t sure Lexa wants her to openly express such gratitude. So Clarke decides she can wait until they are in the streets.

Once outside Clarke turns to Lexa, “Thank you, Commander.” When Clarke meets Lexa’s eyes, she hopes Lexa can somehow see behind her composed expression. The gift has moved Clarke in such a way, she wants to reach out and pull Lexa into a hug. She frowns at the confliction. Unfortunately, such an open expression of gratitude is not an option right now. 

“I do not deserve such things Commander.”

“Look around you Clarke,” said Lexa gesturing to the streets. “Polis would think otherwise. You are more important to _Polis_ than you know. Such a gift is nothing in comparison to the freedom you have given them.” 

After a few more stops Clarke and Lexa begin to make their way back to the Commander’s tower. It has been an enjoyable afternoon in Polis, but Clarke is happy to be heading back to her room. Not only does she feel emotionally exhausted from the peoples' warm reception, but all she wants to do is wind down with her new paint.

Suddenly Clarke notices Lexa become tense as the guards escorting the pair move slightly closer. A firm hand grabs at Clarke’s wrist, pulling Clarke to a stop. In full Commander mode Lexa steps protectively in front of Clarke. Lexa’s shoulders are pulled back and her chin is slightly raised in challenge as if to say, ‘ _I dare you’._

“Heda,” the older women dips into a shallow bow. Hardly one that holds any respect, but it’s deep enough to at least meet the minimum requirement.

“Queen Nia, to what do we owe this _pleasure?_ ”

“Well Heda, rumour has it that Polis' markets are the best in the Coalition. If you know me you'd know I can’t pass up the opportunity for a shopping spree,” said Nia gesturing towards Clarke. “However, had I known you were so willing to offer _private_ tours I would have certainly rearranged my schedule.” Lexa stiffens further when Nia takes a few more steps closer to Clarke. “And you must be the legendary Wanheda? Your reputation certainly precedes you my dear. It is nice to finally put a face to all those rumours. Oh, how rude of me, what is your name?”

“Clarke.” 

“Clarke?”

“Kom Skaikru.”

“Such a beautiful name Clarke of the sky,” said Nia. Chills shoot down Clarke’s spine when Nia’s cold hand caresses her flushed cheek. “You must be a special little one. Tell me Wanheda what is your secret? How have you managed to get the Commander’s attention all to yourself?”

The Commander’s guards subtly adjust their weight reaching for their pommels. Lexa’s hand nonchalantly raises silently commanding them to stand down.

“I am sorry to cut this meeting short Nia. Clarke and I were just on our way to go over her role in Azgeda’s branding ceremony. I trust you will have a great time in the markets,” said Lexa nodding to the guards around her. “Do drop by Agatha’s bake shop, you will be pleased to know she makes the best blueberry tarts in the coalition. Good day Nia.”

Clarke barely has a chance to think twice before she finds herself being ushered with great speed towards the Commander’s tower.

* * *


	8. The Wolves Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation from the Wolves Part I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. xo - LMS.

**_LEXA_ **

“I want the guards at this door doubled now! Do you understand me? Doubled!” Lexa points wildly down the length of the long hallway. “This floor is restricted to essential personnel only. If Wanheda leaves her room all of you are to follow her!”

Without a further word Lexa slams Clarke's door closed. The noise makes Clarke flinch, but Lexa has no time to apologize. Instead she aggressively paces around Clarke's room.

“Lexa?” said Clark, hesitatingly grasping Lexa’s bicep. With her other hand Clarke attempts to rub soothing circles down Lexa’s tense back. But it's of no use, Lexa is furious with herself.

Lexa replays the interaction with Nia. When the Queen came up to them, Lexa made a grave mistake. She let Nia see her overprotective nature. If Clarke had been anyone else, Lexa would have never stepped in front of them. Lexa clenches her fist at her own stupidity. What did she think Nia was going to do? Steal Clarke right there in the streets? Lexa’s slip has endangered Clarke, and its no one’s fault but her own.

“You must promise me Clarke that while Azgeda is in Polis you will not go anywhere without your personal guards. The title of Wanheda has already put a large enough price on your head. And after that interaction, Nia will no doubt recognize your importance to _Polis.”_ Lexa is trying her best to express her feelings. But she has spent so many years stuffing away her emotions, vulnerability is a struggle. It is something she knows she must work on. But for the time being, hopes Clarke understands what she is attempting to say. “I don’t want to banish you to your room forever, but I think it would be best if you remain up here for the rest of the evening.” Guilt simmers in her stomach. It’s a selfish request and Lexa knows it.

From Clarke’s change in stance she knows Clarke is going to protest. Lexa holds her breath preparing for Clarke to retaliate. After all, Clarke did just get her freedom back. She has grounds to be upset. Clarke's face scrunches for a moment, but then relaxes her defensive posture. With relief, Lexa exhales. 

“I will stay put. Plus, it will give me time to enjoy my gift. Which I have yet to properly thank you for.” Lexa’s stomach twists into knots when soft lips meet her cheek. Clarke gestures towards her new art supplies, “This gift is incredibly thoughtful. Can I ask where you got the inspiration from?”

“I had overheard Talia talking about your request for such art supplies. I must admit I did not possess much knowledge in this area, so I took it upon myself to do a little research. From one of the books I read I have learnt that art can be used to express oneself; a way to heal the soul when words cannot.” Lexa scratches the back of her neck. An action she does when she is nervous. She would hate for Clarke to misinterpret what she is trying to say. Yes, Clarke needs to heal, but that doesn't mean she is any less perfect in Lexa's eyes. “I hope I have not overstepped Clarke, but it is my wish that this gift will help find the healing you are looking for.”

Clarke’s eyes become glossy, “Well I think it’s incredibly sweet Lexa. Thank you, I could not have asked for a better gift.”

Lexa can’t help but puff her chest out with pride. She tries to suppress the smile threatening to curl on her lips, but it’s too late. In a moment of vulnerability, a small one forms across her lips.

“I regret that I must leave,” said Lexa looking out the window to the sun’s position. “There are still many matters I must see to before Azgeda’s branding ceremony. Please remember what I have said Clarke. Should you need anything Talia or one of your guards outside will assist you.”

“I will. And Lexa?” said Clarke nervously fumbling with her hands, “Will I get a chance to see you tomorrow?”

“Of course. Have a good night Clarke.”

“You too Lexa.”

* * *

**_CLARKE_ **

With heavy laden eyes Clarke takes the damp cloth and cleans the paint off each brush. The piece has taken much longer than she originally expected and judging by the brightness of the moon it is well into the night.

Clarke takes a step back critiquing the finished project. On the ark Clarke was known for her extraordinary talents as an artist; many Arkers would make special trips to the gallery just to see Clarke’s work on display. But regardless of the praise, she has always felt that her artistry is ordinary. She can always find the imperfections. Lines not straight enough, colours not blended enough, portraits not real enough.

Most students on the ark had preferred to paint in abstract or modern styles, but Clarke always found she could best express herself with realism. There’s a sense of self-gratification when finished paintings are near photo perfect. And tonight, Clarke feels she has accomplished just that.

At first, she struggled to find inspiration for the canvas. Clarke wanted to capture something that was meaningful to her. To bring to life a past memory that she could share with Lexa. Clarke had spent nearly an hour pacing her room, searching for anything to spark her creativity. Her inspiration was eventually found when she stepped out onto her patio for fresh air. Looking up Clarke noticed how the sun hid behind the wisp of a cloud. It was then Clarke knew what her portrait would be. Lexa has spent her whole life staring up into the sky and Clarke has spent most of hers staring down onto the earth. Lexa will never have a chance to see the breathtaking view from above, so Clarke felt determined to share this with her.

Thanks to the vast array of colours Lexa provided, Clarke was able to mix the perfect hues and transfer them onto the canvas. Clarke had first mixed small amounts of purple into the black for a base. Painting the whole canvas, she gave it the blackness of space. Then came the stars. Littering the canvas with tiny little specs, she had flicked the bristles in such a way. 

The next step was the most challenging part of the portrait. Much time was spent mixing the paint just right. When Clarke felt that her pallet was perfect, she begun to paint the faint outlines of the interstellar mediums. These gas clouds aren’t entirely visible with the naked eye. But Clarke had fell in love with the array of colours the matter and radiation displayed when she used a telescope in astronomy class. The way these swirls of colours majestically filled the cosmos will always be stamped in Clarke’s memory. And this was something she wanted to share with the Lexa too.

Once the galaxy was dry, she moved to the focal point of the piece: Earth. Clarke placed Earth centre left of the canvas; deep blues of the ocean were made to compliment the land's natural tones. The finishing touch was the white wisp of clouds. Their wisping nature was used to create the appearance of the atmosphere.

Looking at her finished work, Clarke’s chest beams with pride. It's perfect. Memories of the Ark rush back to Clarke and she cannot wait to give Lexa this piece of her. But that will have to wait until tomorrow. Yawning Clarke slips in between the bed’s furs. Adjusting the blankets just right, Clarke quickly falls into a deep sleep.

* * *

**_LEXA_ **

Lexa jolts awake from the noise. Instincts spur into action as she grabs the dagger hidden underneath her pillow. She is ready to strike. But after a few seconds, her ears register cries from the West wing. Lexa’s heart sinks. 

From her guards’ reports, Clarke is still struggling with night terrors. But until tonight, never has it been loud enough to wake Lexa. Quickly slipping on some loose-fitting clothes she rushes to Clarke's door. Two guards welcome her. From their uncomfortable stance, they too do not know what to do. 

“Heda,” said the shorter one. “It has never been this bad before. What should we do?!”

“Move aside! Tell no one I am with the Skai princess. Under no circumstances is this room to be disturbed.”

With the help of the moonlight Lexa can see Clarke’s silhouette. She can tell by the glisten on Clarke’s forehead that she is drenched with sweat. But thankfully, Clarke’s screams have now quieted to small whimpers. Relieving some of Lexa’s worry.

Lexa quickly walks to the bathroom. She grabs a facecloth, then heads to the large walk-in closest. Clarke will need a new shirt. A thought that instantly makes Lexa feel torn. She has come a long way with Clarke, but she doesn’t want to overstep boundaries. But then again, Lexa doesn’t want Clarke to lay in a pool of sweat for the remainder of the night. Clarke is rational, she would understand Lexa isn’t trying to take advantage of her. 

Hesitantly she takes the cloth and wipes the sweat off Clarke’s forehead. Pulling back the furs Lexa holds her breath. Grounders are extremely comfortable with nudity, but Lexa finds herself flustered at the thought of discarding the drenched shirt. Thankfully, she still has her breast bindings on. A sight that makes Lexa feel less guilty about this decision. Awkwardly Clarke is maneuvered into the new shirt. The moonlight is bright enough for Lexa to notice purplish markings all along Clarke’s arms. Lexa freezes. Clarke was wearing a long sleeve shirt at the markets today, so Lexa never did get a chance to notice these bruises. Anger begins to swell in her chest. But as she inspects the markings further, a smile meets her lips. 

Lexa hoped Clarke would like the gift. And from the paint splattered down her arms it seems she has. She spoke true when she told Clarke that hours were spent researching the concept of art. It was a whole world Lexa didn’t even know existed. Lexa’s life has been devoted entirely to battle and leadership. So expanding her knowledge in such an abstract area was fascinating. In fact, Lexa finds herself a little envious that the only tool she’s talented to yield is a weapon. 

Her attention focuses back on Clarke. The even breathing of Clarke’s chest reassures Lexa that the worst of the terror has passed. Lexa knows she should probably return to her own room. But as she is about to climb off the bed, her body has no desire to abandon Clarke. What if Clarke still needs her?

Lexa sighs. Reaching over she wraps herself up in an extra fur. Positioning herself in the corner of the bed, Lexa continues to protectively watch over Clarke. Eventually evidence of the early morning appears when the sunlight kisses the city landscape. After some time, the contents of the room brighten. Lexa’s tired eyes notice a canvas sitting on the easel. Its backside faces her, peaking Lexa’s curiosity. 

From the paint splashed down Clarke’s arms, Lexa presumes this canvas is what Clarke was working on earlier. The thought of seeing the other side is tempting. She desperately wants to solve the mystery that lays a few steps away, but quickly scolds herself. How dare she think she would be privy to see Clarke’s work. She recalls a reading that said, ‘ _art can be an extremely private form of expression’_. Such an action could infringe on Clarke’s personal privacy. Lexa needs to gain the girl’s trust back not ruin it further. She will only look at the piece if Clarke invites her to.

“Lexa?” questions a small, hesitant voice. “Lexa what are you doing here?”

“I…you were having a night terror,” Lexa feels a gush of embarrassment. Clarke _had_ a night terror so there is really no excuse to still be in Clarke’s private chambers. “I came as soon as I heard and stayed with you until it was over. Forgive me for intruding, I will leave at once.” Lexa goes to slide off the bed, but a small pressure on her thigh stops her.

“Lexa you look exhausted. How long have you been in here?”

Lexa shrugs. Truthfully, she doesn’t know. It could have been hours. Time stands still in Clarke’s presence.

“Well you look absolutely fatigued,” said Clarke in a concerned tone. Opening the furs Clarke gestures to her, “Come rest. You and I both know you cannot afford to be tired during the upcoming festivities.”

Lexa freezes. The last thing she expected was such an invitation. A gentle hold around Lexa’s wrist persuades her to lay down next to Clarke. When Lexa feels the heat from the other girl an electric like current fills her veins.

“Come here. Let me take care of you,” said Clarke as she places Lexa’s head onto her chest. Two arms wrap themselves securely around Lexa and Lexa can’t help but feel slightly ashamed. She initially came here to take care of Clarke, but ironically here she is cradled in Clarke’s arms like a little meek child. 

But Clarke is right, Lexa is exhausted. The last few days have consisted of sleepless nights staring at the ceiling as worry gnaws at her chest. It had first started with fretting over how the other clans would react to Azgeda’s membership. So far however, the pushback has been manageable. But now Lexa’s biggest stress is Nia herself. Not knowing if Nia has ulterior motives eats away at Lexa. Worst of all, Nia’s presence has flared a persistent anxiety that has convinced Lexa Nia is going to steal Clarke from her. 

Yet somehow in Clarke’s arms all these worries have evaporated away. Lexa knows how this could end; it’s dangerous for both her and Clarke. She doesn’t have to be reprimanded by Titus to know the possible repercussions these feelings could have on her ability to lead the Coalition. Choosing to lay in the arms of the girl she loves is a selfish choice and she knows it. But for the first time in years Lexa is happy to feel weakness.

* * *

**_CLARKE_ **

From the way the sun is pouring into the room, Clarke knows she has slept way too long. But even with the amount of sleep she received, she still feels evidence of exhaustion. Most likely a side effect from last night’s nightmare. Clarke thought she was getting better, but the vivid images that plagued her dream shook her to the core. Obviously, it must have sounded traumatic enough to cause Lexa to visit her for a while. _Lexa..._

Clarke vaguely remembers talking with the girl. If she remembers correctly, Lexa had come to make sure she was okay, Lexa was tired, and then Lexa left. Clarke was so out of it, she doesn’t remember much of the conversation they shared. She just remembers feeling safe.

A cool draft hits Clarke’s exposed leg. Reaching down to fix the blankets Clarke’s eyes widen when her hand brushes over a thigh that’s not her own. Clarke’s cheeks flush with heat and she can only imagine they are a deep shade of red. Not only is this the closest the two have been, but Clarke feels embarrassed for basically groping Lexa in her sleep.

Holding her breath, Clarke slowly inches away from Lexa. Silently Clarke prays her movements won’t wake her. She would rather avoid the awkward conversation on how she reassures Lexa she did not mean to stroke her inner thigh. Clarke lifts a little further, but to her surprise a firm grasp stops her from moving any more.

Clarke freezes. She doesn’t know if she should feel mortified that her movements have either caused Lexa to stir awake or Lexa has been awake this whole time. Before Clarke can dwell further on her thoughts, that same firm grasp slowly guides Clarke back.

For a moment Lexa pauses as if asking for Clarke’s permission to bring her closer. Meeting Lexa’s questioning eyes, Clarke nods in reassurance.

The familiar scent of earth and spice sparks her memory. With hardly any effort, Lexa rolls Clarke in such a way Clarke finds herself on top of Lexa. Lexa’s strong hands are hesitant at first, but to Clarke’s delight they soon begin to tease gentle massages along her hips and up onto her backside. Clarke bites her lip in an attempt to suppress the small whimper forming in her throat. Too late. The sound makes the tips of Lexa’s ears turn a shade of pink.

The need between Clarke’s legs begins to grow. She responds to Lexa’s strong touch by grinding slow, rhythmic motions into Lexa’s own hips. With a swift movement Lexa flips their position and firmly places herself on top. Clarke watches as Lexa’s eyes fall onto her lips and then hesitantly back to meet her gaze.

Lexa’s pupils are wide. Filled with a desire Clarke has never seen before. But even in the heat of this intimate moment, Clarke has a feeling there is something else burning behind Lexa's eyes. Is it embarrassment? No, Lexa isn’t prudish. Besides Clarke has heard of the rumours about Lexa’s companionship during her lonely nights. Regret? Clarke lets the self-doubt trickle in. But quickly reminds herself about the vulnerable conversation they shared not too long ago.

“Are you okay?” questions Clarke.

“Yes.” Lexa’s exhale is shaky.

“Lexa?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to be the Commander right now you know,” said Clarke intertwining her fingers with Lexa’s. “It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to be vulnerable.” Clarke offers a reassuring squeeze, “Are you sure you’re okay Lexa?”

Her words somehow break through the protective walls as Lexa’s bottom lip begins to quiver.

“No.” Lexa rests her forehead on Clarke’s. And from the way her inhale shakes, Lexa appears to be holding back tears. “I’m sorry Clarke.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For not being strong enough.”

“What do you mean Lexa? You’re the strongest person I know.”

“No, I’m not. I’m so scared Clarke.”

Lexa’s eyes lose focus as if getting lost in her own thoughts. Looking at the deep emerald hue, Clarke notices a haunted like pain emerge. The sudden shift in Lexa makes Clarke recall the conversation she once had with Lexa amongst the ruins of Ton DC. Lexa is still haunted by the death of Costia. And with the Ice Queen within such proximity, Clarke doesn’t need much more of an indication to know what Lexa is thinking. 

Clarke can imagine Lexa is scared to let her in. Letting her in means there could be a chance Clarke would be snatched up at night’s darkest hour. Only to be returned when another bodiless _gift_ is delivered to the throne room. Lexa may not directly say, but Clarke can tell Lexa is hiding more trauma than she leads on. And Clarke cannot bear the thought of Lexa’s suffering. 

“I’m sorry Clarke…I ju-

Clarke brings her lips softly to Lexa’s. The kiss is tender and patient. Clarke can tell Lexa is still holding back, so Clarke does not push her for more. Her intuition is proven correct when the warm splash of Lexa's tears fall down onto Clarke’s cheeks.

“You don’t need to say anything Lexa. Even as much as we would like, we both know we cannot promise each other a happy ending.” Clarke places a kiss on Lexa’s forehead. Tenderly she wipes away the evidence of Lexa’s tears, “But there is one thing I can promise. I promise that until I take my last breath my heart too will always be yours.”

Clarke blinks back her own tears as she places another affectionate kiss on Lexa’s cheek. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind Lexa’s ear, Clarke laughs when she notices the dried paint smeared down the length of her arms.

“Hey, I might have something to make you feel better,” said Clarke as a small wave of insecurity washes over her. It’s childish for her to feel inadequate. Clarke is an exceptional artist, but sharing art is special and surprisingly all Clarke wants is Lexa to be proud of her. “If you would like, I’ll show you my first painting.”

Through the tears, Lexa’s eyes instantly light up, “Please, I would love to see your talents Clarke.”

Pulling Lexa off the bed, Clarke leads her to the edge of the canvas.

“Okay stand here and close your eyes. Don’t open them until I tell you to do so,” said Clarke moving towards her painting. “I’m going to move the canvas out to the balcony. I think the natural lighting will accentuate the colours best. I’ll be right back, and remember, absolutely no peeking!”

\---

**_LEXA_ **

When Clarke disappears Lexa smirks slightly. She would never admit it to Clarke, but she likes it when Clarke uses her bossy tone. After a few more moments the slight scent of vanilla swirled with cinnamon meets Lexa’s nose. Two hands cover over her closed eyes, causing Lexa to lightly scoff, “Do you not trust me Clarke?”

“Well I know the Commander doesn’t usually take orders, so I wanted to make sure she was listening when I told her not to peek.” Clarke teases leading an expectant Lexa to the balcony. “Okay before I remove my hands, I want to tell you a little about the inspiration behind the picture I have painted for you.”

 _For you._ Lexa feels her heart flutter at those two words.

“I wanted to paint something that was dear to my heart. I mean it took me way longer than I would like to admit on choosing exactly what that something was. But in the end, I think I found the perfect image. This is one of my fondest memories of living in the sky. What I am trying to say is... Well actually I’m not sure what I am exactly trying to say… so I guess I should stop rambling and just show you…” Clarke removes her clammy hands. She whispers softly, “You can open your eyes now Commander.”

After a moment of hesitation Lexa slowly opens her eyes. Her jaw practically swings wide open as she takes in the array of colours before her. Lexa had an inclination that Clarke was talented, but this? This is surreal.

“Clarke…” Lexa can’t seem to muster any words. Whatever this image is has taken her breath away. Clarke’s expression is expectant as she nervously bites at her nails. Which perplexes Lexa. This painting is nothing but gorgeous. Clarke has nothing to be self-conscious about. To reassure Clarke, Lexa reaches for Clarke’s hand and gently squeezes it in approval.

“Clarke, I don’t know what to say… This is a gift for me?” Lexa takes her free hand and delicately traces the edges of the painting, “I have never seen something so breathtaking. This is what you saw in the sky?”

Clarke nods gesturing towards the painting, “On the Ark my family was… how can I explain this, I guess one of high importance. Perhaps like your grounder royalty? Anyways, with my parents being on the council, I received many perks that the majority of others did not. This view was one of them. This was the scenery outside my bedroom window. I would spend hours staring down dreaming about finding a home on the ground. I’m sure you have figured it out, but Lexa this is what your world looks like from the sky.” 

With those last words never has the mighty Commander felt so small.


	9. The Request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today. This one is quite small so I posted another to make it worth your time. As always, thanks for reading. - LMS.

**_ANYA_ **

Anya mentally goes through her list. Most things are in place, but there are just a few loose ends she needs to discuss with Lexa before Azgeda’s ceremony tomorrow night. As someone of her status, Anya would usually not have such an active role in overseeing Polis’ events. But Lexa personally asked her to assist Dorji with assembling additional warriors onto the Polis guard. A request that had first confused Anya.

Dorji is a brilliant leader. He is by far one of the better lead guards Polis has ever seen. Certainly, he would be more than capable to amalgamate additional Trikru warriors into the patrol. Which is why the initial request for Anya’s involvement was little strange. But of course, Anya never questioned the order assuming Lexa had her reasonings. Reasonings that didn’t take long for Anya to figure out.

Within twenty-four hours all clan leaders, along with their corresponding parties, will be in Polis watching Azgeda take the brand. It’s no secret that many clans just barely tolerate each other. So there is a large risk of bloodshed should conversations go awry. It is a wise decision to incorporate additional warriors into the guard; again, a task Dorji is more than capable of handling himself. But after watching Lexa’s emotional breakdown Anya knows the real reason for her strange assignment. Lexa wants her most trusted General to look for potential gaps.

Without a doubt Dorji will ensure Polis remains safe, but he may overlook the importance of Wanheda’s safety. All clans know the legend of Wanheda. Should an individual wish to harness the power of death, then they must take Wanheda’s life themselves.

Anya received this assignment because she has promised Lexa she would keep the Skai Princess safe. If anyone can successfully protect Clarke, it’s Anya. Not only is she one of the Coalition’s best warriors, but Anya is Lexa’s most trusted friend. It only makes sense that she would be the one chosen to guard Lexa’s heart.

But for some reason Anya feels a strange sense of uneasiness. And if experience has taught her one thing, it is to trust her gut. So, over the past few days, Anya has immersed herself into Polis’ defenses. Countless hours have been spent dreaming up wild scenarios. Exhausting every potential plot and then analyzing how Dorji’s defenses will effectively mitigate the enemy’s threat. Currently she yet to find a fault. But that doesn’t mean her mind will stop working the angles. Her mind will only find rest when the festivities in Polis have ceased and Wanheda’s safety is ensured. 

When Anya reaches the Commander’s room, she straightens her posture and enters. Anya may be one of the only ones who can walk into Lexa’s chambers unannounced, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t show Lexa the respect she deserves.

“Heda.” Anya respectfully bows to Lexa who is sitting crossed legged on the couch. “I hope I haven’t interrupted your morning meditation, but there are a few things we must discuss before Azgeda’s ceremony tomorrow. First, I have reviewed Dorji’s defense and I fe… wait, Lexa are you even listening to me?”

Lexa barely snaps out of her daydream. Feeling annoyed, Anya follows Lexa’s distant stare to the fireplace mantle. Anya inhales sharply. Whatever her eyes are looking at is the most majestic image she has every seen. A vast array of dark colours swirl around a circle like sphere. If Anya didn’t know any better, the little bright specks look exactly like the stars in the night sky. It is incredibly beautiful. Just like Lexa, Anya’s attention is pulled into this mysterious piece’s orbit. 

“Lexa…. What is that?”

“This is Earth.” Lexa’s eyes don’t leave the painting. “This is our home. It is beautiful isn’t it? Clarke tells me that about right here,” Lexa pauses as if trying to recall the exact location from her memory, “is where we live. This was Clarke’s view of the ground.”

Anya feels a sense of disbelief. Never has she seen a painting so vivid, so real. It’s like she is there with Clarke staring down onto earth.

“Clarke made this?” questions Anya. Looking back towards Lexa, Anya rolls her eyes. Lexa looks like a proud little peacock. Her chest is puffed, and it is as if she is ready to strut about the room.

“Yes. She painted it for _me_. Clarke said she wanted to give me something special. I will be honest I have neglected most of my morning duties just so I can stare at it.”

Anya chuckles. It makes her happy to see her former _seken_ this way. Anya has spent many years worrying about the dark path Lexa was heading down. But seeing this cheeky smile again slightly eases her concerns.

“You lovesick _branwada_!” Anya jokingly knocks the side of Lexa’s head, “I will not deny that this piece is one of exquisiteness. But there are far more important matters we must discuss Lexa. What would the people say if they knew the Commander chooses to hide away and make googly eyes at art when the clans are marching to her doorstep?”

A small, mischievous smirk forms on Lexa’s lips, “They would say nothing. My people are smart. Such claims about their Commander would be deemed fallacious.”

“Yes, yes you mighty little Commander. Anyways now that I have your full attention, I think we should begin with Wanheda. Have you spoken to Clarke about attending the ceremony?”

“Yes, I have.”

“And she will attend?”

“Yes, she will.”

“She will certainty draw much attention from the other clans. Many think her to be immortal, godlike even. Have you thought of how you are going to address this? I think we both can foresee how problematic this may become if not handled properly.”

Lexa straightens her posture linking her fingers behind her back. A position she assumes when she becomes serious and deep in thought.

“I have foreseen this issue a long time ago. Titus believes I should attack this head on by slaying Wanheda in front of the other leaders. In his mind he believes I should be the one to harness her power for myself. It appears many of the past Commanders also side with Titus.” Lexa’s lips press together into a fine line. From her slightly distressed expression Anya can tell Lexa is burning on the inside from inner conflict. “Obviously, such actions would be ludicrous. She is too important to Polis to be killed by my blade. Not only do the people of Polis love her, but the Skaikru would surely revolt. I’ve already decided, Wanheda will not be killed by my hand. And I will hear no more about it from Titus or anyone else who disagrees with my decision.”

“I would agree.”

“I have already made other arrangements with Clarke. They should keep Titus quiet for now. I also want you to make sure that for all Azgeda’s events Clarke is seated to my right. Clans will see this as symbolism for a unified power which will reaffirm Clarke’s importance to the Coalition.”

“Is it possible that too much focus on Wanheda will make others question your authority?” questions Anya.

“No. I have that handled. Clarke has agreed to bow before me. All clans will see that their Commander holds power over death.”

Anya nods in agreement. Titus’ plan would work, but it’s a short-term solution. The Skaikru would not stand with the Commander if Wanheda’s soul was taken. Lexa’s plan is one with longevity in mind. The clans will recognize Wanheda as a superior, but only next to the Commander. It is also convenient that Clarke will sit next to Lexa. This will allow Anya to keep a close eye on Clarke without her knowing.

“And what of the Skaikru Lexa? Has word been sent about Clarke’s whereabouts? Surely the Chancellor will not be too pleased if such a secret is kept from her.”

“The choice to tell belongs to Clarke and Clarke alone. If she wishes to send word before the Skaikru get to Polis that is her decision.”

“Are you sure that is wise? We only just brokered peace with the Skaikru. Our relationship is fragile at best.”

“ _Em_ _Pleni!_ ” A hand raises that stops Anya from arguing further. Anya knows when it is okay to push Lexa and clearly now is not one of those times.

“I trust Clarke Anya; she knows her people best. Whatever she decides will be the right decision.” 

“Very well. If there is nothing else you need, I will go see Dorji for the final briefing.”

Anya quickly dismisses herself. The afternoon is almost gone, and she still has quite a few things to accomplish before tomorrow.

“Wait…” Lexa’s voice stops Anya in her tracks. Spinning on her heels she looks back to Lexa. The façade of the Commander has been entirely replaced with vulnerability. It’s a face Anya rarely sees anymore, and she knows whatever Lexa is about to ask will not be a command.

“I need you to do something for me. Something I am sure you’re not going to like,” Lexa pauses, the pop of her knuckles cracking breaks the silence. “I would do it myself, but as Commander there is risk the other clans would see it as favouritism.” Lexa looks at the painting then back towards Anya as if trying to avoid the reason she called Anya back. “I can’t sleep at night knowing that as Wanheda, Clarke’s life is in danger. I feel anxious when she is not around as I am constantly worried for her safety. You are my most reliable ally, my bravest warrior, and the head of all my armies. I know this task is beneath you, but I would trust no one else with her life. Anya, for my sake, would you please consider taking Clarke as your _seken_?”

Anya doesn’t even try to conceal her shock. After Lexa had become Commander, Anya promised herself she would never take another _seken_. It’s not that she is ill suited for the job. Especially by the skill Lexa possesses, no one would ever question Anya’s abilities as a mentor.

But Anya knows she is quick to become impatient, easily annoyed by stupidity, and she absolutely cannot tolerate naïve little _sekens_. Her promise to keep Clarke safe, creates a pit of regret in Anya’s stomach. How on earth will she be able to protect Clarke when all Anya is going to want to do is throw Clarke off a cliff herself?

“Yes.” Anya gulps down her pride. Afterall, this is for Lexa’s sake. “I’ll do it.”


	10. The Confirmation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visitor comes to Arkadia. Meanwhile Anya and Lexa make a shocking discovery about Clarke.

**Arkadia**

**_RAVEN_ **

The throbbing pain in Raven’s knee woke her up much earlier than she wanted. She hoped that this new brace would help soothe the stubborn ache, but sadly it appears that her makeshift contraption has done nothing for the nagging pain.

Adjusting her brace slightly she sits herself on top the workshop stool. At least there’s a bright side to being up so early. There’s plenty of time to make sure all her projects are packed and ready to send off with the crew’s departure to Polis.

With the thirteen leaders present, Abby asked her to rummage through the items salvaged from the mountain to see if any old world technology could be restored. Not any weapons of course, but just a few flashlights, radios, and other small tickets items that could be used to impress the other leaders. As the newest clan, it’s a way the Skaikru can prove their value.

Raven was asked to join the group traveling to Polis, but she declined. She doesn’t want to see the Commander after what she did to them. Being a part of the Coalition means that a certain respect must be owed to Heda, but that doesn’t mean Raven has to like her. Plus, she wants to stick around here especially when – well, more like if – Clarke returns.

Raven’s mood drops. For the last month, she hoped a new sunrise would bring a returning Clarke. But as each day passed, her hope lessened. She now worries that Clarke is suffering or worse, dead. Right after Clarke wandered off, word reached Arkadia about the legend of Wanheda and the desires to harness her power. Raven presses her lips into a fine line. The thought that Clarke could have been murdered makes her feel sick.

“Raven?”

Raven doesn’t even have to turn around to know who the voice belongs to.

“Octavia.”

“What has you looking so sad there Reyes?” Octavia plays with her hair. Tossing it behind Raven’s shoulders. “It looks like someone stole your sandwich.”

“Nope. No sandwich to be taken today. It’s the same old; I just hope _she’s_ okay you know?”

Octavia looks down to the cement floor. Raven can tell the wannabe grounder is feeling a little guilty. Octavia had been so furious with Clarke’s decision about Ton DC. When Clarke left after the mountain, Octavia cursed Clarke dead. But a week after Clarke’s disappearance Octavia was full of remorse. Apparently grumpy old Indra told Octavia that leaders need to make tough choices and to suck it up buttercup – or at least that’s how Raven likes to think the conversation went.

One thing Raven does know for sure is that Octavia has learnt the true weight of curses. Up in the Ark, the idea of cursing someone was done as a joke or friendly banter. But it appears curses have a whole different context on the ground. Lincoln explained that curses are not to be uttered loosely. To curse someone’s death could prove deadly should the spirits overhear and choose to fulfill the wish. Ever since then Octavia believes that the spirits have granted Clarke’s death. Raven is starting to think this too and secretly she resents O for her speaking such things. 

“She’ll come back Ray. Clarke’s stubborn. It will take more than the wilderness to bring her down.”

“It’s been over a month O!” Raven haphazardly throws a few gadgets into boxes. “Every day that goes by I feel less hopeful. I don’t care if she doesn’t want to come back. I just want to know where she is.”

“I know. Maybe the other clans will know something. Which reminds me, are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

“One hundred percent yes. I don’t want to be around _her_ more than I must. I know the Skaikru have moved on, but I can’t until I know for sure Clarke is alive. How would I be able to be in the same room as the Commander when I blame her for Clarke’s disappearance? So for keeping the peace, it’s probably best that I don’t come.” Raven organizes a few more boxes before turning to Octavia, “Now why don’t you make yourself useful and help me pack these to the wagons.”

“There are so many boxes! This is practically abuse.”

“Says someone with two perfectly working legs. Be useful and help me so a cripple doesn’t have to carry them all herself. Oh, and be careful with that box over there, it’s breakable. I’ve worked hard on these little goodies – if you break them there will be revenge.” 

* * *

“Okay here’s the last of the boxes your majesty. Now remember, just because you're gimped doesn’t mean I am your slave.”

Raven smiles patting her brace while Octavia wipes sweat away from her forehead. She is about to say something snarky to Octavia but decides to bite her tongue. Octavia did just save her an entire morning of pathetically dragging the boxes by herself.

“Rider approaching! Open the gates!”

Both girls’ attention snaps to the main entrance. As the gates open, a small grounder on top of a strong, black horse strides through the gates. The horse, like its rider, appears to be slightly nervous inside the metal walls, pawing anxiously at the ground. Lincoln is quick to observe the horse’s uneasiness and aids by grabbing the reigns. Gently he quiets the giant by placing slight calming motions alongside the horse’s jaw.

 _“_ I am here with a message for Chancellor Abby.” Raven watches as Octavia strains her neck to attempt to understand the rider’s _Trig_.

“The Chancellor is busy attending to matters in the healing quarters. She has asked to not be disturbed. I will forward your message,” replies Lincoln.

Octavia lets her curiosity get the best of her. Quickly she tugs Raven closer to eavesdrop better. The wannabe grounder is no where near fluent in _Trig._ But apparently knows enough words that she brags she can get the main idea out of most conversations. But who knows. Raven is convinced O is overselling her abilities to impress the other delinquents. Or maybe O is skilled. Perhaps Raven should give her a little more credit.

 _“_ The Commander of death is safe in Polis. She wishes to see Abby.”

Octavia clenches Raven’s arm. Raven watches O’s jaw drop as she looks to Lincoln for confirmation. His stance is still, nodding to her in some weird telepathic like exchange. At his confirmation, or whatever that silent exchange was, O’s eyes widen.

“O what is it? What’s wrong?” said Raven.

“I… it’s Clarke!”

“What about Clarke? What did he say? Dammit O, form your words! Is she…dead?”

“I think he said she’s alive. She’s safe in Polis and has requested to see Ab-.”

Raven doesn’t wait for Octavia to finish before jogging towards her room. Pain shoots up from her knee and into her thigh, but she doesn’t care. There's not much time left.

“Wait Reyes! Where are you going?! Slow down you’re going to hurt your knee!”

“I am going to pack my stuff O. The Skaikru party is leaving to Polis within the hour and I plan to be with them.”

* * *

**_ANYA_ **

“Dead… really dead…Oh now you’re as good as dead since I just chopped your weak little arm off!” Anya impatiently points out the faults in Clarke’s pathetic positioning. “Clarke you little _branwada_ are you even focusing? Because trust me, I will not be pleased to waste my afternoons with someone who isn’t appreciative of my mentorship!” 

Anya swings the dulled sparing sword at Clarke. To her surprise her annoying little _seken_ makes an impressive attempt to block the attack. But Anya’s surprise morphs to further annoyance when Clarke overcompensates the weight swift and tumbles into the dirt.

Anya smirks to herself. Thankfully, these mentoring sessions are being held in the privacy of the Commander’s own practice arena. Which was an easy decision since both Anya and Lexa agreed that Clarke’s training will remain a secret. Plus, Clarke’s techniques are interesting to say the least. Her movements with the sword are much different than the traditional grounder style. She is light on her feet, but Clarke’s weapon work is an awkward struggle – something that would no doubt draw in an unnecessary large crowd. 

Initially Anya planned to train with real swords but is grateful she reconsidered. Had these blades been real, Clarke surely would have chopped off a few of her own fingers by now. Or even worse, somehow manage to cut herself in half. An accident Anya would have difficulties explaining since Lexa firsthand knows Anya’s reputation for impatience. The story of how Anya’s _seken_ somehow managed to impale herself would be hardly believable.

Anya makes another swing. The violent force of clashing metal sends vibrations shooting up her wrist. The hard impact causes Clarke’s sword to fly to the ground.

“Clarke! The sword is not a paintbrush! You need to grip it as your life depends on it.” With little patience, Anya once again demonstrates the proper grip. “In a real fight you won’t have the luxury to make such mistakes!”

Clarke quickly retrieves her weapon. Adjusting her stance she attempts a rushed attack against Anya. One Anya easily defends.

“Stop! Your little blue eyes are revealing all your movements. I can tell you’re distracted. Your preoccupied mind is going to get yourself killed.” Anya pauses as she gently brushes her fingers along the dulled metal. “Even with this dull sword I can cut you apart. So I am going to ask you one more time what is on your mind? It is in your best interest to be honest with me Clarke because I won’t ask you again. The next time you zone out I may just cut you in half instead.”

Anya glares down at Clarke’ sweaty face. Lexa warned Anya to be gentle. It may not seem like it, but Anya is trying extremely hard to be patient. Especially because she knows being delicate isn’t exactly in her nature.

“I’m sorry Anya. I just can’t stop thinking about what will happen when I see _them_. What will they think of me? Will they forgive me for leaving? Will they think I was selfish? Will they hate me?”

Anya feels her stern look soften when Clarke’s eyes begin to well with tears. Anya should have realized why Clarke has been so distracted. Not too long ago, Clarke sent a rider to Arkadia in the hopes to mitigate any repercussions concealing her stay in Polis would create with the Skaikru. Lexa had been right to trust the girl’s instincts.

“Hmmm I see. I have never had much of a family myself, so I’m not sure I can relate much to your feelings...” Anya hesitates to find the right words. Along with little patience, discussing feelings isn’t her forte either. “But I do see the love your people have for you. From what I know about love, love is understanding, and love is about forgiveness. If your people love you as much as I think they do, you shouldn’t spend your energy worrying about such things that are now out of your control.

Actually, I take that back. If anything, you should worry about your sparring skills. Young Clarke you need to start focusing on my teachings or else I will start praying to the spirits that you should never find yourself on the front lines of battle!”

“Hey now, that is hardly fair! We have only had a few lessons. All of which you have shoved this awkward blade into my hand expecting me to be an expert!” Clarke discards her sword to the ground. Taunting Anya, Clarke gestures her closer. “Let’s even out the field. Take me on right now. No weapons, just us.”

A shocked laugh escapes Anya. Clarke, the Skai princess thinks she has a chance against a seasoned warrior like her? It would hardly be a fair fight.

“You little _branwada_. Should I remind you that over confidence is a way to ensure a quick death?!” Anya’s practice sword indents into the dirt below, “but I’ll entertain your invitation. If your combat skills are as good as your sword work, it won’t take long to remind you of your place.”

“Maybe this will be a lesson in your arrogance,” teases Clarke, “judging my other combat abilities based on my sword skills alone will be your downfall. Who knows, maybe I have learnt a few tricks on the Ark.”

“Up in that metal box? I find that hardly believable.”

“It’s true. How about I give you one more chance to reconsider. I mean what would people say if a little Skai girl beats up the Commander’s best general? That would make for an exciting story wouldn’t it.” Clarke flashes Anya a cocky grin.

Anya rolls her eyes at the playful banter. For Lexa’s sake Anya will go easy on her opponent but she won’t hold back entirely. A good, controlled fight will be good to shake Clarke up a little.

“I am not scared of a little naive Skai princess. Maybe it’s the time in our training where you learn a little lesson in respect.”

“Or like I said, maybe this will be your lesson to not judge a book by its cover.”

“No mercy until yield is called?”

“Bring it on General!” Clarke readies herself in a defensive stance, “Oh and Anya, no crying to the Commander if I hurt you.”

Again Anya rolls her eyes. Taking an offensive stance Anya prepares herself to take the first strike. She usually likes to be in control of her spars. Plus, she would prefer to get this childish challenge over as soon as possible. Quickly calculating her opponent, Anya figures the best tactic is to strike Clarke upside the head, throw her off balance, and then take out her feet from under her.

Anya maneuvers her attack, but to her surprise Clarke easily dodges the assault. _Beginner’s luck._

Anya jabs again. One that Clarke dodges – again. Narrowing her eyes into small slits Anya takes in Clarke’s annoying, smug little look.

As she continues to lead the offensive, Anya starts to notice the way Clarke moves. She is light and responsive with her footwork. It is almost dancelike. Compared to Clarke’s horrific sword skills, Clarke’s movement is surprisingly beautiful.

“ _Smack!”_

Anya’s eyes widen with surprise as a familiar metallic smell emerges in her nose. Very few can land an actual strike on Anya. And to think this Skai princess is now one of them? This will leave a purpling bruise on her ego.

This strike can’t go unanswered. She must quicken her attacks. Anya spins. Aiming a kick at Clarke’s head, but to her frustration Clarke dodges it. Barely, but she does. Anya can tell Clarke is growing tired from playing the defensive, so Anya tries to gain from the girl’s fatigue.

Anya attacks again with speed. Throwing a sharp punch, the uppercut hits its mark. Square into Clarke’s jaw. The impact sends Clarke off balance and Anya takes advantage of Clarke’s weakened position by planting another punch. This time, Clarke’s lip is slightly cut in the process.

Anya jabs again but aims for the nose. Just before her fist makes contact, Clarke blocks the attack with her forearm. Immediately there is a shift in Clarke as her movements become more offensive. Clarke’s unique style is quick and precise. Attacks Anya finds slightly difficult to defend against.

It’s not that Anya isn’t holding her own defensively. She is, but it isn’t without difficulty. Clarke lands a well-placed kick into her abdomen, sending the wind rushing out of her lungs. Anya attempts to retaliate by sending a missed chop at Clarke’s throat. Rotating again Anya tries to kick Clarke back, but Clarke grabs onto her leg and spins Anya out of balance. With a thump Anya falls, slamming hard into the dirt. Clarke lands on top of her, an already bruised fist drawn back ready to strike.

“Yield?”

Anya shakes her head. She never yields, especially to a _seken_. She flips their position using the oldest trick in the book. Grappling Clarke’s shoulders with her legs, Anya sends Clarke crashing onto her back.

The embarrassment of potentially losing this fight sends Anya’s emotions loose. Her judgement is clouded, but she presses forward. Anya pulls her fist back implanting a swift punch into Clarke’s cheek. Winding up for the final blow; Anya hopes this one will be the one to make Clarke yield.

“ _Em pleni!_ Stand down or I will force you myself!”

The thunderous voice halts Anya mid swing. She knows who’s towering behind her and Anya is terrified. As a _fos_ Anya did not take her lesson too far. But as _her_ sworn protector, she has crossed a line she swore not to. Anya feels the Commander’s presence move closer.

Hot breath meets the back of Anya’s neck as a low whisper hisses into her ear, “Hurt her and you hurt me Anya. Get up before I throw you off myself.”

Anya turns to meet a set of fierce eyes. Instantly conviction burrows a deep pit into her stomach. What has she done? Extending her bloodied knuckles to Clarke, she pulls her _seken_ up.

“I am sorry Clarke,” said Anya lifting Clarke up from the dirt. “I perhaps went a little too far.”

Clarke quickly wipes the blood away from her mouth in an attempt to clean the evidence before Lexa has a chance to see the extent of the damage. Anya appreciates the gesture but knows Clarke’s efforts are useless. Her left eye is already beginning to swell; it will most likely be black in a few hours.

When Clarke finally looks to Lexa, Anya notices Lexa’s eyes soften as if overcome with worry. Quickly she looks Clarke up and down for signs of other obvious injuries. Once Lexa is sure Clarke isn’t further injured her eyes turn steely once again.

“Anya, my chambers now!”

From the way the words hiss through Lexa’s teeth, Anya knows she is in for it. She takes one last look at Clarke. The cuts on her face makes Anya cringe. She didn’t mean for it to get out of hand so fast. The truth is Clarke is an exceptional fighter. Had Anya known that beforehand, she probably would never had adrenaline cloud her judgement. The spar was fast, exhilarating, and Anya let her competitive nature take over. Anya sighs. She is about to meet an inevitable fate.

\--

**_LEXA_ **

Once the two are alone the Commander’s mask falls and Lexa cannot help herself. Quickly she ushers towards Clarke.

“Clarke. Let me have a look at you, are you hurt anywhere else?” questions Lexa inspecting every inch of Clarke.

“Lexa I am fine.”

Clarke slightly winces when Lexa gently presses her fingers into her ribs. Without thinking Lexa grabs the hem of Clarke’s shirt to investigate further. Anger swells when Lexa sees the reason for the discomfort. Discolouration is already spreading itself over a few of Clarke's ribs. A sure sign that some could be bruised or worse, broken.

Lexa shouts swift orders to her guards. She is not a healer and will need Nyko’s assistance to make Clarke’s injuries more comfortable. She tries to relax her shoulders, but the whole ordeal has made her incredibly uptight. Has she overreacted? Lexa clenches her jaw. She’s not sure. It is quite possible that the fight was warranted. But something in her protective nature snapped open at the sight of Anya about to lay another punch into Clarke. _Her_ Clarke.

“I have called for Nyko and he will soon meet you in your quarters. I wish I could personally see you to your room, but it appears I now have other matters I must see to before the ceremony starts.”

Clarke delicately intertwines her fingers into the Lexa’s. A gesture that immediately relaxes Lexa’s shoulders.

“I’m fine, I promise. I will have Nyko put something cool on my face. I think it will help with the swelling.” Clarke touches the swelling socket; wincing at the tenderness, “I just hope this doesn’t leave the impression that I am a terrible fighter. At least Anya will have a matching battle scar too. I gave her a good smack to the nose you know!”

Lexa freezes. Silently replaying Clarke’s words to confirm she heard correctly. Clarke was able to strike Anya? Impossible. Lexa wants to question Clarke more, but she lets it go. The General can explain it herself. 

“I am sorry I must run Clarke, but I have arranged for one of my guards to personally escort you to your room.” Lexa pulls her hand away from Clarke's before motioning over to an eager looking Lyra. “Clarke this is Lyra. If you are okay with it, it is my hope you will let her be your shadow while the clans are in Polis.”

Lexa subtly bites the inside of her lip. She feels guilty for being a little selfish. Clarke has always been one to like her space. And Lexa can imagine Clarke is not fond of the idea of a personal bodyguard. Well then again, little does Clarke know she already has ten shadows. Lexa is only introducing Lyra to Clarke because it makes Lexa feel a little more ethical about the situation. If Clarke is aware of one shadow, would ten more really make a difference? Lexa silently justifies her decision. These next few days are important for the Coalition’s future. Time cannot be spent worrying about Clarke’s safety.

Clarke reaches out for Lexa's hand again. Just before Clarke makes contact, Lexa considers pulling back to avoid such an open display of affection. But reconsiders. Lyra has been sworn to secrecy. The young _seken_ won't dare say a word. Taking Clarke's hand into her own, the peace it brings confirms she made the right decision. 

“If it would make you feel better then yes, I will allow it. But only on one…no, actually on two conditions.”

“I’m listening.”

“First you must promise me that you won’t be too mad at Anya. Give her a chance to justify herself. If anything, my childish taunts deserved the beating. And secondly, I want to see you tonight after the ceremony.”

Lexa presses her lips together to stop the threat of a smile from making its way onto her lips. The first condition may be difficult to uphold, but the second one makes up for it.

“I promise Clarke,” said Lexa tightly squeezing Clarke’s fingers, “so, we are in agreement?”

“Yes.”

“Good” Lexa spins on her heels, with haste she storms out of the room.

\--

Clarke takes in the sight of her new shadow. Eager hazel eyes complement a tanned complexion. A skin tone much like Reyes, Clarke finds herself slightly jealous of how pale she is in comparison. Following Lyra’s braided hair, her mocha strands fall just past her shoulders. She is decorated head to toe with daggers and from the style of bow slung across her back, Clarke concludes this warrior is probably a scout. Lyra looks young or perhaps she is just small for her age. But Clarke knows she shouldn’t underestimate her protector – Lexa wouldn’t choose just anybody for this task.

“Wanheda, it is my honour to serve you.” Lyra reaches out for Clarke’s arm. Embracing in the grounder hold, Lyra’s eyes light up when Clarke smiles. “Thank you for accepting my service.”

 **“** Please, Clarke is just fine. We should probably get going before my swelling gets any worse. I would hate to get Anya in more trouble than she already is.” Clarke brings the smaller framed warrior in for a slight side hug. An action that would normally not be acceptable for such a formal relationship, but Clarke can already tell Lyra is the little sister she will never have. “I have a feeling we will be spending lots of time together, so there is no use being strangers. Why don’t you tell me a little something about yourself?”

Clarke offers another warm smile completely oblivious that her new shadow already knows much more about her than meets the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few people DM'd me on Instagram and asked when we are going to get to Klark's story line. Right? I am with you! Because who doesn't want to see Azgeda Klark being an absolute badass. Her character is one of my favourites in this fic and I cannot wait to share her with you! 
> 
> I don't want to give anything away, but I promise we will get there soon. I know some of the current scenes may seem like fluff, but I assure when I outlined this story each servers a strategic purpose. The importance of each scene will be clear once we unfold the present timeline. Looking at my posting schedule, I notice that after this Sunday's post there is going to be a lot of content thrown at you (aka more than one chapter posted like today). Hang in there, we are going places and there's soon going to be a lot of different clexa feels. Thanks for reading, you have all made my first time writing such a lovely experience. See you Sunday - XO LMS


	11. The Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday! So as I mentioned in last Wednesday's end notes, this is the last chapter that "sets" the background for the past. After today, the plot will be picking up and there will be lots of content heading your way. I won't spoil anything, but I will say that the next three scheduled posting days will each have two chapters. Which means, more characters, more motives, more clues on Klark's origins, and of course some intense Clexa feels (because let's be real, Clexa is basically the reason we're all here). 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading - LMS.

**_ANYA_ **

The wooden doors to Lexa’s room slam open. Anya barely has time to collect her thoughts before the heat from the Commander’s stare burrows into the back of her head.

“As your previous _seken_ I know firsthand what kind of mentor you are. You are impatient, incredibly ruthless, and you don’t hesitate to be cruel if you feel it’s necessary. And because of this I have suffered countless wounds from your hand. But at the same time, you are a wise and just teacher; you wouldn’t dare strike your _seken_ unless it was warranted. But I am unable to understand what a defenceless Skai girl, _my_ Skai girl in case you have forgotten, could ever do to permit such a beating from my best General?” Lexa clasps her hands behind her back. Before Anya can justify her actions, Lexa continues, “Now, Clarke has made me promise that I will give you a fair chance to explain yourself. Her concerns, plus the bruising along your noise makes me conclude there is more to this story than meets the eye. So speak true Anya and don’t you dare hold anything back.”

Anya goes to speak, but then cuts herself off. She has been trying to make sense of the unexpected events since Lexa banished her to this room. Why would Clarke conceal such a skill? Has she been faking this whole time? Is her swordsmanship really that terrible or has she been pretending to be weak with that too? The questions have been churning nonstop. But before Anya can get her answers, she knows she needs to smooth things out with Lexa.

“Lexa, I will be honest I did not expect things to turn out the way they did. Had I known, I would have been more prepared for the fight. I let adrenaline and my drive for competition cloud my judgement and I am sorry.”

“I don’t understand?”

“For the last few sessions with Clarke I thought it would be best to teach her the basics of yielding a blade. I must admit her swordsmanship is quite horrific, so I joked she better pray she’d never see the battlefield. Then it was to my surprise Clarke issued a no weapon challenge.”

“My Clarke?”

“Yes!”

“Go on.”

“I thought she was overconfident, so I only accepted because I wanted to teach her a lesson about the dangers of arrogance. Ironically, it was I who was taught the lesson.”

“Which was?”

“That Clarke should not be underestimated. What I am trying to say Lexa is that Clarke, and perhaps other members of the Skaikru, are not as defenseless as we think they are. She defended my attacks in movements similar to the styles of Azgeda’s assassins but at the same time so much different.” Anya pauses for a moment, silently recalling the turning point of the spar. The moment she realized Clarke would be a real opponent. “Lexa, she hit my nose so fast I didn’t even get a chance to register her attack! And that was my turning point. I wanted to see what Clarke was capable of but at the same time my pride would not let me be caught yielding to a _seken_. So, I increased the speed of my attacks, all of which she handled with ease. Soon I found her taking control forcing me to take the defensive. I will be honest it was an effort to keep up. But I promise you Lexa, if she would have yielded, I would have stopped.”

Lexa thoughtfully reflects on the information. Anya sighs with relief when the intensity behind Lexa’s eyes morphs into what Anya presumes to be pride.

“Thank you for your honesty Anya. Had I known the whole situation I would have never yelled at you. Please continue to train her as you see fit. I trust your judgement and I promise I won’t interfere anymore.” Lexa gestures to Anya in dismissal. But before Anya gets to the door, Lexa’s hand grabs at her wrist. “Oh, and Anya? Speak of this to no one, not even Indra. Clarke has obviously had reasons for her secrecy, and I will take it upon myself to find out why. I think it is safe to say we both have learned a lesson here today. Let us never again underestimate the Skaikru and what they have to offer.”

* * *

**_LYRA_ **

The orders are clear: ‘ _Do not let her out of your sight and do what you must to protect her. Whatever the cost is, take it’._ Orders very similar to the ones Lyra received a month ago, but at least this time around she doesn’t have to lurk up in the shadows.

Lyra leans her back against the cool stone wall in Clarke’s room. Silently she observes the handmaiden prepare Wanheda for tonight's festivities. At first Lyra didn’t think she would be able to attend, as branding ceremonies are reserved for those who far are exceed her rank. But as luck would have it, she will be in attendance since earning the title as Wanheda’s shadow.

Clan negotiations are normally done through messengers and ambassadors, so it tends to be rare for a clan leader to make more than a few trips into Polis during his or her reign. What is even more rare is to have all twelve, well soon to be thirteen, in Polis all at once. Lyra bites the corner of her lip to conceal her excitement. She is lucky enough to be in the audience and many of her friends are rife with jealousy. It will be a once in a lifetime experience and Lyra can’t contain herself. But it would be ill suited for a warrior to reveal such enthusiasm in Wanheda’s presence. So instead, an expression of indifference firmly rests in place.

“Clarke, it’s is time to braid your hair.”

Lyra observes as the tall handmaiden strategically organizes Clarke’s blonde locks. Hardly any words are exchanged between the two as the braids begin to form. Lyra doesn’t know their history, but by the subtleness of their shared glances, Lyra figures there must be something more than a strictly professional relationship. Not that it is necessarily her business to know such things, but if Lyra is going to be protecting Clarke, she needs to do her due diligence and learn who can and can’t be trusted. Lyra mentally places this Niylah in the trusted circle – well for now anyways, unless she must decide otherwise.

“These braids are more of a ceremonial design. See this piece here?” Niylah points to a braid out of Lyra’s view, “The way it is twisted signifies your status and once we do your warpaint, no one will doubt your importance.”

“Niylah…” Clarke pauses as she bites her lip, “I will have to be honest; I am quite nervous. I know this ceremony isn’t about me, but for some reason I can’t help but feel insecure. There will be so many people. So many important people and I can’t help but worry that I will not make a good impression on them.”

Niylah offers a soft, reassuring smile as her hands continue braiding.

“Yes, I will admit these ceremonies can be intimidating. But I hear these proceedings are more like childish competitions vying for the Commander’s approval. Who has the finest attire, who is flanked by the fiercest of warriors, who will obtain the longest audience with the Commander, and so on. I promise as a bystander you will find comic relief. Plus, most leaders are all bark and no bite.”

A laugh escapes both girls. Lyra too feels herself smile. When Niylah puts it that way, the whole ordeal does appear slightly childish.

“I can foresee that many leaders and ambassadors will be spending their energy trying to court the Azgeda party. Especially since this will be a critical time to establish relationships and form unofficial alliances. But as your friend I will be very honest with you Clarke, even with all the excitement of Azgeda you will be by far the centre of attention.”

“How is that supposed to make me feel better Niylah?”

“I just want to prepare you that’s all. Yes, Azgeda is important, but they have existed for as long as many clans can remember. But this is the first-time many leaders will meet Wanheda in the flesh. You know the legend your name carries. If a leader can win the favour from the Commander of death, well I don’t think I need to explain what that would mean for the clan’s people to know Wanheda favours them. Just be you, the real you, and I promise they all will love you.”

Lyra knows the handmaiden is right. She remembers how she had felt the first time she was in Wanheda’s presence. Wanheda was, well still is, incredibly striking. Eyes so blue and hair like the sun, Wanheda is beautiful. But there’s something else about Clarke that is so fascinating, but Lyra has yet to decide exactly what it is. Perhaps it has to do with how Lyra looks up to Clarke. Clarke is kind, she is smart, and she is powerful. Everything Lyra hopes she will be when she becomes Clarke’s age. 

Whatever it is Wanheda’s presence is captivating and Lyra can see why the Commander has chosen her. Of course, Lyra hasn’t been told that Clarke will become the Commander’s _houman_ , but Lyra has her suspicions. She has observed their subtle, yet intimate interactions. And why else would the Commander order eleven shadows to follow Clarke? Plus, Lyra has heard rumours that tonight Clarke will have the seat just to the right of Heda’s. A brilliant move in Lyra’s books. This arrangement lets the others know the importance of Wanheda to the Commander. And politically, this seating will silently signal to the others that Wanheda’s favour resides ultimately with the Commander herself.

“But that is enough talk about politics, let’s get your warpaint on.” Niylah tilts back Clarke’s chin exposing Clarke’s face to better lighting, “And by the looks of these bruises, it looks like I will have my work cut of for me. You have yourself a ruthless mentor.”

“Anya is… well let’s just say I got the lesson I deserved.”

Niylah flashes Clarke a quizzical look. It looks like she wants to pry Clarke for more details, but for whatever reason refrains.

After some time Clarke's ceremonial paint is near complete. Niylah is just putting on the finishing touches when suddenly Lyra’s ears perk up to a loud commotion just outside Clarke’s door. Quickly arming herself with daggers Lyra rolls onto balls of her feet. She inhales, preparing for whatever danger is lurking outside.

“I don’t care what your orders are, we are getting through these doors one way or another. I swear to god, if you don’t move I will blow you and them open myself!”

“Hey, get your hands off me!”

 _“Bang, bang, bang!”_ Loud impatient knocks slam against the wooden door.

A voice, different than the first, emerges from behind the door, “Clarke! Clarke if you are in there you better open up this minute or I will cut you into little pieces myself!”

Lyra quickly moves in front of Clarke; whoever is outside will have to get through her first. But to Lyra’s surprise a light touch meets her shoulder.

“It is okay Lyra,” Clarke nervously chuckles as she steps towards the door. “They have a right to be angry with me, but I promise even with their quick tempers and boisterous threats they are all but harmless. You can stand down so I can let them in.”

Lyra hesitates, but trusts that Clarke knows what she is doing. When the door opens two fiery eyed girls are locked in the grips of four muscled warriors. They may be small, but they are sure giving the men a good challenge.

“Let them pass,” said Clarke.

The largest warrior steps forward holding the taller girl in a disabling hold. His massive biceps are wrapped underneath her armpits and his hands are placed behind the girl’s head. She squirms wildly to break free. Frankly her efforts are quite useless, but Lyra commends her for the determination. Lyra thinks she will like this one.

“Wanheda they have declared threats. They wish to cut you into pieces. They know nothing of respect! It would be an honour to defend your name. If you allow it, we will kill them ourselves.”

Both prisoners pale. Lyra can’t see Clarke’s expression, but by her carefree stance Clarke is certainly not offended by the lack of respect. Grounders take verbal slander quite seriously. Once a villager wished the Commander dead. Days later he was gutted by his own brother.

“Adrian, I am honoured by the devotion you continue to show me. I owe my life to your constant protection. But I promise my safety is not compromised with these two,” said Clarke gesturing to the two girls, “I do agree they could learn a thing or two about respect, but they are not murderous assassins. They are the closest thing I have to sisters and I will personally deal with their insolence. Please let them pass.”

In unison the guards release the girls. The one with a strange contraption on her knee throws Adrian a mischievous, _“I told you so grin,”_ and struts proudly alongside another girl who Lyra thinks is possibly from the Skaikru as well. Yet she sports Trikru braids and grounder clothes much different than the strange attire the other Skai people wear. This combination confuses Lyra, so she isn’t sure who this warrior is yet, but Clarke did say they were her sisters. Once the door closes Clarke shakes her head at her guests. 

“What on earth were you two thinking?! And how the heck did you two sneak up to this level?!”

“Okay well hello to you too princess. I mean we missed you, but yes, let’s of course go straight to business.”

Lyra feels herself inch forward; the lack of respect is shocking. They better watch it before she takes matters into her own hands. Do they not know how important Clarke is?

“Rey look, I am sorry. I mean, what if I wasn't in here and Adrian made his own decision on how to deal with you two? This is not Arkadia, you need to be careful,” Clarke’s eyes fall to the floor, “I don’t think I could live with myself if something happened to you two.”

“Well you certainly change your mind quick. Seeing as not too long ago you decided that your little gallivant in the woods was more important than being there for us!” To Lyra’s horror the girl who looks more grounder than sky reaches out and grabs Clarke by the collar. Instantly Lyra readies her dagger to strike, but Clarke raises a hand. Stopping Lyra from progressing her attack. Clenching her jaw, Lyra reluctantly eases back onto her heels. She watches in shock as the dark-haired warrior pulls Clarke in even closer. Hissing at Clarke through bared teeth, “So what changed Clarke? It didn’t really seem like you gave a freaking shit about us a month ago. Why would you care if we die now?”

The words cut deep into Clarke as hurt flashes across her face. Clarke’s pained reaction makes the Skaikru warrior’s feisty expression soften slightly with regret as the grip around Clarke’s shirt loosens. The girl with the brace glares at the Skaikru warrior and moves to step beside Clarke, wrapping Clarke in a firm embrace. Lyra notices how tears begin to well in all eyes. Even with the air being thick with tension, it is a touching moment that causes Lyra to blink away tears.

“Clarke that’s not what O means. It’s just we were hurt when you left. Like you didn’t even say goodbye. O and I were so worried about you. Everyday we hoped you would return to us, but each day that passed we began to presume the worst,” said the girl with the brace glaring once again at the other Skai girl called O. “I won’t lie, I am still very angry you only sent a messenger now, but I think what O meant to say is are you okay. Like really okay?” 

Lyra can tell by the way Clarke shifts her stance the question makes her uncomfortable. It is true that Clarke has made progress since Lyra watched her in the woods, but Lyra suspects she isn’t completely whole yet.

“Well, I… I’ve had lots of time to reflect on the past and I think I should start with I am sorry. I am sorry Octavia about the decision I made in Ton DC. At the time I thought it was right. And maybe it was the right decision, but I am sorry that we will never know, and lives were lost because of it. Raven I am sorry for leaving without even a goodbye. I thought what I was doing what was best for everyone. I know that my sabbatical was necessary for me, but I should have at least let you know. You two are some of the most important people in my life.” Clarke inhales nervously, playing with the cuff of her sleeve before getting the confidence to continue, “Will you forgive me?”

 _Raven and Octavia._ Lyra silently imprints their names in her head moving them to the “trusted” section of her mind. Obviously, they are special to Clarke and even with the slight aggression they are currently not a threat. Because they are important to Clarke, Lyra can probably even go as far as forgiving them for the lack of respect they have just displayed.

“Yes, we can forgive you. I know you care for us Clarke; you care for everyone. Like Raven said we are hurt, but that doesn’t mean I should have lashed at you like that. I’m sorry too. We are together now, so let’s make the most of it.”

Octavia extends her hand to Clarke, each grasping at each other’s elbow. The silent stare shared is intimate, as if the two are speaking through their eyes. The contact is slightly hesitant at first, but from its genuineness, Lyra can tell the hurt will eventually be forgiven.

“So are you going to tell us what kind of look you got going on here?” The one named Raven breaks the silence as she places both hands on Clarke’s shoulders. As Raven scans Clarke head to toe, Lyra can tell from the expression on Raven’s face that the skai girl is trying her best to forgive. But even with her attempt at a humours tone, the slight stale air suggests that wounds from Clarke’s disappearance still run deep. Raven’s lips contort out of the fine, compressed line as she continues to talk before Clarke has the chance to answer. “What I mean is you look great. The hair and face paint are one thing, but dam girl this dress? You got quite the cleavage going on. I bet you’re going to be able to pickup whoever you would like to...you know…get lucky.”

Lyra creases her eyebrows in slight confusion. It is no secret these Skai people have strange ways of doing things and clearly communicating is one of them. 

“Raven! First, I am not too sure that this ceremony is that kind of party. So sorry to burst your bubble if you had the expectation of getting laid by some grounder. Plus, I am not interested in going home with anyone...” the tips of Clarke’s ears turn a slight shade of red, “it’s so dam complicated, but I'm starting to think there could be someone special.”

“Wait what? I see that look in your eyes, you are in deep Clarke. You disappear for a month only to get lovestruck? Who is this person?”

“Oh, where are my manners,” Clarke deflects the question turning towards the back wall. “Lyra, Niylah this is Raven and Octavia kom Skaikru. As you can see, they are practically my sisters. I am sorry in advance if they annoy you as much as they can annoy me. Raven, Octavia this is Lyra and Niylah kom Trikru. Lyra is, well I guess you can call her my bodyguard and Niylah is my personal handmaiden.”

“It is nice to meet you.” Octavia nods in acknowledgement. “I hope Clarke isn’t as much as a pain in your ass as she is in ours. Also Clarke you are deflecting. You might not answer us now, but I promise we will find out sooner or later who this mysterious person is.”

“Okay but seriously!” Raven interjects, “what or _who_ did you do to get all of this? Like a top floor suit and personal assistants. Where can I sign up?”

“Wanheda is very special to Polis. Because of her we are free from the nightmares of the Mountain. Without Clarke many would still be trapped in its pits. As the Commander of death, she is integral to the survival of the Coalition. And for that, we are forever grateful.” From the way Niylah describes Clarke, Lyra can tell Niylah is as in awe with Clarke as the rest of Polis is.

“So basically, what you are saying is you’re like some grounder royalty? Gosh Clarke, I guess somethings never change,” said Raven punching Clarke’s arm. It is a force soft enough to be considered playful, but from the way Clarke winces Lyra can tell there was slight anger behind the impact. “Once a princess always a princess. But hey, since we are your sisters, we better reap the benefits. Put a good word in for us will yah? I would especially like a swanky room and if possible, a grounder to go with it too. Hunk or beauty I don’t care as long as they know their way around the sheets. I will be happy – in more ways than one.”

Raven finally seems to let go of her slight hostility and throws Clarke a mischievous wink. As Clarke opens her mouth to speak, a knock at the door saves Clarke from answering the obnoxious Raven girl.

“Wanheda. Sorry to interrupt, but the ritual is about to start.” said Adrian as he steps into the room. “The Commander has wished for me to tell you that if you have any doubts about your role in the ceremony, she will not force you to attend.” 

“No, I’m ready. Please send word to the Commander that all will go as planned. And Adrian? Please escort my _friends,_ Raven and Octavia safety down.”

“Wait, let me get this clear. You and the Commander are like friends now? Because when we were traveling back from the Mountain, I am pretty sure you said you wanted to take her by th-”

Clarke holds up her hand to stop Raven mid sentence. A gesture she no doubt has learnt from the Commander herself. Lyra can just imagine where Raven was going and agrees that it is probably best that the other Trikru warriors don’t hear the threats Clarke had once uttered.

“Well it’s complicated Raven. As I said, the wilderness gave me much time to reflect on our time on the ground. I guess if the rest of the Skaikru can move on, so can I. How else can we prosper down here? We need the Coalition and we need the Commander.” Clarke gently ushers the girls out the door, “Now go you two, Adrian will lead you to the ceremony. And please for the love of god, stay out of trouble.”

Shutting the door Clarke takes a moment to collect herself. Looking at Clarke once again, Lyra notices that Raven is right. Clarke looks beautiful. She is an equal mix of elegance and ferocity and there is no doubt she will be the centre of attention.

“Both of you deserve a huge thank you for putting up with my family drama. I promise they mean well, they are… well I guess we are all trying to adjust to life on the ground,” Clarke said turning towards her handmaiden. “Thanks Niylah for getting me ready tonight. I could not have done it without you. Lyra are you ready my little shadow? You better escort me down before I can change my mind.”


	12. Wanheda Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight is the night the clan leaders have been waiting for. But not because Azgeda will be sworn in as the thirteenth clan. But because it's the first time Wanheda will be seen in the flesh. Both Clarke and Lexa will have to deal with the consequences of Wanheda's spotlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has turned into, well, a mammoth. So I decided to split it up Tue/Wed. Finally other minor characters will now be introduced. Some of these will be clan leaders who will make appearances in the present timeline as well. 
> 
> ALSO - there is a small scene in here that involves a brief moment of non-consensual touch/ a reference to an unwanted sexual situation. It is about two sentences in a larger paragraph with dialogue. This paragraph can by all means be skipped without missing out on important details. If this is something that is a sensitive topic for you, below I have included the last sentence of the preceding paragraph and the first sentence of the subsequent paragraph. This way you will know where to stop and then start reading again. 
> 
> ***TRIGGER WARNING***  
> \- So much for staying out of trouble - Stop reading  
> \- Igor cups the side of her face - Start reading
> 
> Thanks for reading. Stay tuned for Tomorrow - LMS

**_LEXA_ **

Lexa looks down from her throne. Scanning the crowd for the fifth time she wants to be certain all leaders and delegates are happy in their seating plan. Yesterday Lexa spent hours discussing it with Indra and Titus, it looked good on paper, but seeing it in person is something else entirely. It's pleasing that there has yet to be any altercations. Reaffirming her decisions with the seating arrangement. 

Lexa’s gaze meets Argo kom Broadleaf. His skin is darkened and slightly weathered in appearance. Evidence that his clan has constant exposure to the sun’s warm kiss. Argo is one of the Coalition's bigger leaders. His hairy arms are like thick tree trunks and complementing his large muscles he has a vast assortment of tribal tattoos that decorate the length of each limb. An intimidating stature that equally matches his intense personality. The Broadleaf clan is the furthest south and because of their location they stay relatively neutral in other clan rivalries. Which is why Lexa had Titus place them in between the Glowing Forest and the Rockline clan.

Two clans whose hatred started over fifty years ago when apparently one leader stole the other’s daughter to take as one of his _houmans_. Legend says that the Glowing Forest Princess was one of beauty and wisdom. Her proximity was said to be captivating, making even the strongest of men fall into a deep trance in her presence. Apparently the Rockline leader met the Princess during political negotiations, but before he returned to his territory he had arrange for her kidnapping – an action that even to this day has obviously not been forgiven.

Regardless it annoys Lexa why these two clans can’t move on from the past. She was tempted to just force them to intermingle. But for the sake of her Coalition thought it would be best to buffer these tense relations with a neutral barrier. Which is exactly what she has also done with the Floukru.

Lexa’s attention moves to the Floukru section offering a slight nod to its leader. A wild haired Luna returns the subtle gesture. A clan known for their peaceful relations and salted fish (a delicacy heavily sought out by many clans that live inland) the Floukru are Trikru’s closest allies. Lexa trusts no clan more. Which is why she has placed them in the front, right between Azgeda and the Skaikru. The rationale for Lexa’s decision is she needs listening ears she can trust.

Of course, the Trikru have been instructed to watch which clans try to mingle with the Ice nation and which prefer to avoid the pale people. But truthfully many tend to shy away from true conversation when the Trikru are present – an unfortunate consequence of being the Commander’s clan. But Luna is a gifted observer, so Lexa has no doubts Luna will be providing her with a whole report by the end of this week's festivities.

Out of the corner of her eye Lexa notices a tense conversation. Blue Cliff’s Ambassador, Kerbasi, is speaking with clenched teeth to a rigid Valda, a petite but fierce politician. Valda may be an Ambassador to the Plain Riders, but her prowess as a warrior should not be underestimated. When Valda was just sixteen summers, she had been one of her clan’s most successful generals. It was her military strategy and quick wit that put her above the others – skills that have made her just as dangerous in the political ring.

Valda was a talented fighter too. But when she was twenty summers, she was plagued with the sickness. The village healers called it _blinka haken,_ a rare sickness that causes far away images to blur into mere shapes, and sadly it put an end to Valda’s military career. She was devastated, but felt she owed it to the safety of her warriors to step down as war general. Not too long after she found a hidden gift in politics and she hasn’t left Polis since.

Out of instinct Lexa reaches for the pommel of her sword, but her hand finds nothing but air. She twists her lips in the discomfort of being vulnerable. The branding ceremony is a sacred ritual and because of this, it is tradition for these events to be weaponless. With the history Lexa has had with Azgeda, Indra and Anya begged her not to attend unarmed. But Lexa disagreed; how can others be expected to trust a Commander who in return won’t trust her own people?

She did eventually settle their anxieties by granting both Anya and Indra the ability to remain armed throughout the ceremony. Lexa had figured Titus would protest, but to her surprise he agreed that this would be most wise since the true intentions of the Ice Nation still remain unclear.

Lexa gestures towards Indra who immediately notices the Ambassadors’ tense exchange. Thankfully, the dense air between the two quickly dissipates when Indra makes her way to the pair. Valda may have once been a decorated war general, but she is still no match for Indra.

Movement at the doors catches Lexa’s attention. Adrian, escorting Raven and Octavia, walk into the hall. She starts to wonder how those two met Adrian, but Adrian’s signal stops her from speculating any further. His nod means Clarke is ready, which means the ceremony can start. Lexa clears her throat as she rises from the throne. An action that causes immediate silence to wash over the room.

“Clans of the Coalition!” Lexa’s voice booms in the grounder’s native language, “We gather here to welcome a new clan into our territories. I have always believed we are strongest as one. So after this day, let no one rise against us. But before we become thirteen, I command Wanheda to join us. All rise for the Commander of death.”

The two guards stationed at the entrance pull the cast iron handles open. The heavy oak creaks under the immense weight each door bears. When they fully open, Lexa’s breath catches in her chest. Clarke is breathtaking.

Her dark warpaint is beyond perfect as smudged, black kohl neatly etches in around her eyes emphasizing the colour of the sky. From underneath both eyes, a mixture of reds and silver trace in thick bands running along the top her cheekbones; sweeping out in such away the bold colours of Wanheda only stop once they collide with her blonde hairline.

Lexa’s eyes travel down to Clarke’s dress. The material is a mixture of gold and beige, perfect for extenuating Clarke’s sun kissed hair. It is a dress that has been designed by Wynna, an aspiring artist who has enjoyed recent popularity after Lexa wore a custom dress at the last solstice festival. Lexa decided to request her services again because she felt Wynna’s less traditional work was perfect for Clarke. Once again, the designer has not disappointed.

Clarke’s braided strands fall onto her shoulders, past her collarbo... Lexa becomes abnormally rigid. The dress’ neckline plunges deep, revealing a portion of Clarke Lexa has only dreamt about. Butterflies erupt as her stare snaps back up to Clarke’s. Clearing her throat to regain concentration, she mentally curses Wynna for exposing such a generous portion of Clarke’s breasts. Lexa has always believed great Commanders are ones who can control their temptations. Until now, Lexa has never had such a vendetta with a mantra. 

* * *

**_BELLAMY_ **

Nervously Bellamy runs his hands over his freshly shaven face as he impatiently pushes through to the front of the standing Skaikru. He knows he shouldn’t be causing such a commotion, but he just can’t help himself.

“Hey watch it!” said a whispering voice.

“Sorry!” Bellamy awkwardly steps off the girl’s toe. Normally he would try to smooth things over more, but he’s on a mission. Every fibre in his being is pulling him towards the girl he has thought about each passing minute since the mountain’s fall. He always suspected he had feelings for Clarke, but never did Bellamy realize just how much Clarke meant to him until she was gone. It surprised him and first, but when she left, it was as if a hole burrowed itself deep inside the cavity of his chest. An emptiness he never knew could exist and since learning Clarke was alive, he knows having her back in his life is what he needs to become whole again. 

Gently pushing the last Skaikru out of the way, Bellamy lets out a slight gasp when his eyes fall on the girl who will forever hold his heart. The look of brokenness Bellamy had once watched disappear into the forest near Arkadia’s gates is no longer in sight. Instead, the woman walking down the long, carpeted isle radiates nothing but an essence of power. Even in her striking beauty, chills run down the length of Bellamy’s spine.

Never has he put much thought into the grounders’ spirit world but seeing Clarke again he can tell something in her own spirit has shifted. And from the surprised looks on the other Skaikru, they no doubt sense it too. It is a terrifying thought. But from the way Clarke carries herself with such confidence it is as if the power of Wanheda truly courses through her own veins.

Bellamy gulps as she nears. It is not that she looks arrogant, Clarke could never be. But between the slight tilt of her chin and the way her dark makeup accentuates her eyes she is nothing but a fierce embodiment of Wanheda. And just like the shocked looks from the other clans, Bellamy can tell no one here would dare challenge her new title. 

As Clarke steps closer, his eyes fall onto her physic. For such an intimidating title, her dress is nothing but elegance. The golden fabric is designed in such a way it is hugging her in all the right places. The heat of a slight blush meets his cheeks when he inspects the deep neckline. Clarke has always been beautiful but seeing her like this only confirms how much he loves her. 

Just as Clarke is about to walk by Bellamy loudly clears his throat. To his disappointment her focus does not wavier. His heart drops. Surely, she must have missed him as much as he has missed her, right? Yet her attention remains elsewhere. Following her line of sight, Bellamy’s eyebrows crease with confusion when he notices just _whose_ gaze Clarke remains locked with.

“ _Why_?” thought Bellamy as a slight tinge of jealousy stirs in his stomach. “ _Why would Clarke give someone she hates so much such devotion?”_

* * *

**_CLARKE_ **

Clarke’s heart slams wildly into her chest. Her ankles tremble under the weight of the hundreds of stares all fighting to catch a glimpse of her. The attention is unsettling, and a wave of nausea churns in her stomach. Clarke wants nothing more than to retreat to the safety of her room. But as she meets Lexa’s gaze, Clarke finds herself being anchored and the anxiety evaporates away.

Lexa looks stunning in her floor length dress. Even from this distance Clarke can tell the black fabric is nothing but expensive. The dress hugs Lexa in all the right places and its colour compliments the red sash tied around her waist. 

Intently Clarke observes Lexa’s features. Stonelike, void of all emotions Lexa is nothing but Commander. Yet behind the stoic façade, Clarke notices something unusual. Lexa is clenching her jaw with such intensity; Clarke fears it might snap. It is as if Lexa is attempting to quell pain or restrain herself from shouting in an argument. An observation she doesn’t have time to dwell on, because she is almost at the platform which means she will have to give her speech.

Silently Clarke replays the phrase one last time. All afternoon she practiced the _Trig_ phrase with Niylah, and all Clarke can do now is pray her nerves don’t get the best of her. Inhaling once Clarke drops to one knee before the Commander.

“Commander, the Commander of death chooses to serve you. As long as you are in command, I will serve you with honor.” Clarke finishes, but does not rise. The symbolism of this action is no doubt sending a message to all other clans. No one is above the Commander, not even death itself.

“Rise Wanheda.”

Clarke stands taking her seat next to Lexa’s wooden throne. Relief washes over her; the _Trig_ phrase was spoken without error and now she can finally relax. Looking out, Clarke meets many different eyes staring back at her from the audience. Some are filled with fear, wonder, and maybe even a little jealousy. Clarke’s lips crease nervously into a fine line. Had she known there would be this many in attendance, Clarke probably would have said no to Lexa’s ceremony.

“It is time.” Lexa’s voice continues to boom loudly in _Trig_ , “Chester of Azgeda come forward and take the brand.”

Clarke watches as the nervous Ambassador makes his way down the isle. She is empathetic towards his feelings especially since she made the same intimidating walk a few minutes ago.

_“_ Chester of Azgeda you bow before twelve but will rise as the thirteenth!”

Once again Clarke firmly presses her lips together in attempt to control her stomach from churning. The smell of burning flesh is far too familiar for comfort.

_“_ We now welcome the Ice Nation to the Coalition. From this day on we will forever fight as one.” 

As soon as Chester rises a thunderous applause echoes throughout the war room. Yet Clarke’s celebrations are cut short when she feels a cold stare burn into her profile. Following the sensation, Clarke sees the Ice Queen whispering to a large warrior. He possesses a sinister like grin and when his ice like eyes meet Clarke’s, a shiver races down her spine. Clarke doesn’t know what the Ice Queen has up her sleeve, but whatever it is, Clarke’s gut tells her it is nothing she wants to be a part of. 

* * *

Clarke savours the last spoonful of dessert. Never in all her life has she tasted something so heavenly. It is some sort of a chocolate dessert, light and airy, with notes of something citrus like. But Clarke is not sure what the mystery ingredient could be. She makes a mental note to ask Talia about it later.

Clarke looks towards her people. From the look on their faces it seems that the Skaikru have enjoyed the quality of the meal too. It is not that Ark food is inedible, it is just more or less on the basic side. Clarke had first eaten with the grounders when camped together near the Mountain. The way the savoury balanced the sweetness had opened Clarke’s eyes to what food could be. And this evening she was just as impressed. 

When Clarke heard what was on the menu tonight, she was very excited. To her delight the feast exceeded all expectations. Lexa had previously explained that the chefs try to incorporate little traditions from every clan to showcase different delicacies. As a result, the buffet had tons of items to choose from. Clarke’s favorite is a toss up between the Plain Rider’s rosemary-mint lamb or the freshly buttered fish from the Floukru. If she weren’t so full, she would go back to see which would be her chosen favourite.

“Are you enjoying your evening so far Clarke?” Lexa’s husky whisper pulls Clarke about of her food coma. Clarke has been sitting next to Lexa all evening, but these are the first words they have shared.

It’s not that Clarke has wanted to avoid conversation; it’s just Lexa has been unusually quiet tonight. And Clarke isn’t sure how she should engage. Which is why she figured it best to leave Lexa alone. This night is extremely important for the Coalition and Clarke doesn’t want to be a distraction. But not once has Clarke found the silence between them uncomfortable. Over the past few days Clarke has learnt that just being in Lexa’s proximity is soothing.

“Yes, the food is amazing Commander. It is by far the best I have ever had.”

“Indeed, the kitchen staff do admirable work.”

Clarke looks back over to the Skaikru section. To her relief the Chancellor has had her back towards the head table all night long. Saving Clarke from making any awkward attempts at ‘ _hello’_.

“Have you not spoken to her yet?” questions Lexa, clearly following Clarke’s stare. 

“No. I was planning on it before the ceremony, but Raven and Octavia seemed to have plans of their own. Which almost included a potential gutting from Adrian.”

Lexa brows furrow slightly, but quickly returns to an impassive position. A subtle gesture Clarke picks up on. 

“The ground is nothing like the sky; we are still trying to adapt to culture down here. I think if we don’t get killed for our ignorance, we will all get it eventually.” Clarke takes a sip of her wine, nodding towards her people. “They seem like they are enjoying themselves tonight. I’m happy to see them intermingling successfully with the other clans too. I was worried that they would stick to themselves. But as it turns out, they are doing well.”

“Yes, it is apparent that the sky has captivated the attention of many eyes tonight.” 

Clarke’s cheeks flush with slight warmth. She usually does not have a self conceited nature but can’t help but think there is a deeper message to Lexa’s words. All night long she has noticed the stares and whispers that have been directed towards her. Clarke usually hates being in the spotlight, but for some reason a sudden urge to venture out like the other Skaikru stirs within her. Plus, if Raven is serious about finding a “date” Clarke probably should help vet the potential candidates.

“Please excuse me Commander. I think it is time I should mingle with the other clans,” said Clarke pushing in her chair as she nods her head in respect.

“Clarke…” For a moment Lexa’s lips are pressed as if full of worry. Clarke doesn’t know exactly what is going through the Commander’s mind, but she has a good indication.

“I promise I won’t go too far, plus I have Lyra to keep me out of trouble.” For a second Clarke breaks formality and throws Lexa a quick, reassuring wink before descending off the podium. For Lexa’s sake she will stick to her promise.

Clarke weaves in and out of the crowd, making her way to the Skaikru area. She sighs. She isn’t in the mood to fully commit to a conversation, well realistically it will resemble more of a lecture, with the Chancellor tonight. But Clarke has lived with her mother long enough to know that she should probably just rip the Band-Aid off. To just get it over with before the awkwardness has the chance to fester even more.

“Chancellor Abby,” Clarke greets her mother with formality in the hopes it will set the tone for the rest of the conversation.

“Clarke, or should I now say Wanheda. It is so nice that you have found the time to come over and say hi to _your_ people.”

Clarke feels her shoulders relax. Even though she has been greeted with cold words, Clarke is grateful her mother has chosen to follow her lead. It appears both women would rather not air their dirty laundry in front of the whole Coalition.

“Of course, I just wanted to make sure we will have a chance to talk soon. Perhaps once the excitement ceases and in a more private area?”

“Agreed, we do have _much_ to discuss don’t w-.”

“Clarke!” Two sturdy arms sweep her off her feet and into a tight embrace. For once Clarke is happy to be interrupted. Turing around Clarke cannot help but smile when she recognizes the dark sweep of curls.

“Gosh Bellamy. you have no idea how happy I am to see you. I have missed you so much.” Clarke doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around his strong frame. “How the heck are you? I heard you and Marcus are now lead guards at Jah- I mean Arkadia?”

“Yes, I was promoted soon after you had left. Man, things sure have changed for us hey?! Who would have thought that we would be here tonight? And you? Look at you, you really are a princess aren’t you.”

Clarke smiles at the complement, “I guess it appears that way. I must admit I was quite shocked when I heard the Skaikru became the twelfth clan. Apparently, you sure miss a lot when you get lost in the woods…” a tight ball tightens at the back of her throat, “Bel?”

“Yes?”

“Can you ever forgive me? I am sorry for the way I left and how I left. I mean you probably felt just as terrible too and I abandoned you.”

“Without a question princess,” said Bellamy squeezing her a little tighter in reassurance. “Sure, I could have used you on my dark days, but we all cope differently. I may not completely understand why you left, but I think we both know it is what you needed. Plus, it seems like you and raccoon eyes over there have made amends.”

Clarke notices Bellamy’s slight change in tone. But thinks nothing more of it as her eyes follow his gesture towards the Commander deep in conversation with Anya. A subtle smile forms on Clarke’s lips. Formal events can be tiring, but Lexa could at least look a little less broody.

“Well I figured there is no point on holding onto the past, especially if forgiving is the best move for our people. I mean how can we expect to thrive on the ground if we hate the hand that can provide for us?” said Clarke.

“I couldn’t agree more. Which is why Marcus and I pushed the Chancellor to have Marcus take the brand. The original delinquents were on board of course because they saw how the grounders lived and wanted to thrive like them. Thankfully, others followed too.”

“Speaking of which Bel, where is O and Raven? I had asked Niylah to set up a room for them in the tower but haven’t had the chance to confirm which room it is,” said Clarke as she turns to her shadow. “Lyra do you think you could do that for me please?” The young warrior hesitates at the orders, but Clarke reassures, “Don’t worry, I promise I will not leave this room until you return, plus I am with Bel. What could go wrong?”

“Excuse me, Wanheda,” a voice as smooth as silk interrupts the conversation. “I am Xavier kom Delfikru. Leader of the Delphi clan.” Xavier extends his hand in greeting, “The moment I saw you walk through those doors I hoped I would have a chance to make your acquaintance and I must say you look exquisite tonight.”

He matches Clarke’s gaze with soft, kind amber coloured eyes. His dirty blonde hair is relatively short, and Clarke can’t help but notice the network of tattoos that start at the base of his neck and disappear beneath the cotton of his red tunic. Underneath his strong jawline there is evidence of a once deep wound. Judging but the colour of the scar it is already a few years old. Had the blade landed just a hair more to the left, Clarke is sure this handsome man would not be standing here today.

“Please, call me Clarke,” said Clarke extending her hand to return the grounder exchange. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Ahem!”

“Oh, Xavier this is Bellamy Blake kom Skaikru. He is one of our Generals at Arkadia.”

“And don’t forget your good friend. So, what do you _Raver_?”

Clarke narrows her eyes at Bellamy for his apparent masculine insecurity. This is the third time today a Skaikru has forgotten their manners. Maybe Clarke should ask Adrian to pay the older Blake a visit too.

“Bellamy were you not listening? This is Xavier _leader_ of the Delphi clan and he and I were actually taking our conversation elsewhere.”

“Clarke wait!” Bellamy reaches out to take hold of Clarke’s hand. With a slight tug, Clarke is stopped from leaving with Xavier. “Please forgive me Xavier for getting your name wrong, I promise it wasn’t my intention to dishonour you.”

“I accept your apology, but I assure you, there is no offence taken Bellamy kom Skaikru.”

“Thank you. And Clarke?” Bellamy slightly squeezes her hand, reminding Clarke that their fingers are still interlocked. “Will I be able to see you again before you retire for the evening?”

“Of course, I would love to catch up. Find me after all the excitement dies down.”

A large grin paints itself across Bellamy’s face as Clarke retreats her hand back. She knows he has apologized, but Clarke still feels embarrassed by Bellamy’s actions. When they are out of earshot, Clarke feels the need to apologize to Xavier herself.

“I must apologize on behalf of the Skaikru. Most have been successful at adopting grounder customs, but after the events of today it appears some still have much learning to do.”

A deep, genuine laugh rolls from the Xavier’s chest, “Don’t worry Wanheda, I have taken no offence. In fact, I think I should thank Bellamy of the sky. It is because of his actions I now have your full attention to myself. So, tell me Wan-”

“Please, call me Clarke.”

“As you wish Clarke. So, tell me Clarke, did you have many books up in the sky?”

“Yes! Not near as many as Polis’ library, but we did have a lot of old-world items saved for our use. Are you much of a reader Xavier?”

“I am. Unfortunately, I don’t have much of a chance these days to read since taking over our clan, but I do try to make time for myself every now and again. I just love a way a story unfolds. It starts out as a mystery. Then the plot moves you along a journey filled with twists and turns until the meaning of it is revealed. Which is why I think I am so interested in your story.”

“My story? So are you are implying you can read me like a book?”

“No, more like an unsolved mystery. What I am trying to say is even with all the books I have laid my eyes no story has been as fascinating as yours.”

“Really? I think you are just trying to flatter my ego.”

**“** No, I am serious. A girl born in the far away stars. Falls to redeem my world from a threat no one else could conquer? You Clarke kom Skaikru are nothing but extraordinary. And I know my villagers would love to thank you in person. I think you would love our landscapes; I promise it is a clan like no other.” 

“Xavier, are you trying to bore Wanheda’s immortal soul to death? You know the Delfikru are best known for the way they run from a battle like crying little children.” A weasel like man steps in front of the pair as he interrupts Xavier. “I am sure Wanheda would way rather spend her time learning about the dunes in Sankru’s territory or even the ferocious ice _paunas_ from Azgeda. Speaking of which, General Beorn here has killed more _paunas_ than any Azgeda warrior!” The man points Clarke’s attention to the enormous warrior standing next to him. “Wanheda, this is General Beorn kom Azgeda, one of the Ice Queen’s personal guards and most promising generals. And I am Igor, leader of the Blue Cliff clan.”

Clarke takes in the presence of the two men before her. Igor is a medium sized man with beady brown eyes. Eyes that hold no kindness like Xavier’s. He doesn’t look much like a warrior, but Clarke does not dare doubt his ability to be a threat. Beorn on the other hand is massive. Shivers run up Clarke’s spine when she recognizes his face as the same warrior that had been intently listening to whatever poisonous words Queen Nia was whispering into his ear earlier tonight.

Clarke bites the inside of her cheek. The atmosphere both these men have created is not one of warmth and she feels nothing but uncomfortable. Immediately she regrets sending Lyra away, but there is no time for such regrets now. Clarke straightens her spine as if to challenge the men when both proceed into her personal space.

“You see Wanheda, you shouldn’t be wasting your time associating with such a clan. Strength lies with those who don’t cower from a battle.” Igor continues as he puts an unwanted arm around Clarke, “Did you know when we were at the base of the mountain Heda had to put the Delphi at the back of the army because they couldn’t stop pissing themselves like the dogs they are?” Igor finishes his speech by launching a wad of spit onto Xavier’s brown leather boots.

“We might do things differently in the sky, but where I come from, we have this thing called respect. I don’t think I have to remind you what happened to the last clan who chose to offend my allies. Surely the Blue Cliff and Ice Nation don’t want to suffer the same fate as the Mountain?” Without the legend of Wanheda behind her, Clarke knows her threats would be empty. And for once, Clarke is thankful for her ‘curse’ as both men clench their jaws from the burn of the insult.

Beorn steps closer, towering his size over Clarke. If he wanted, Clarke knows it would only take a few seconds for Beorn to snap her into two with is bare hands. It’s an intimidating thought, but Clarke knows if she is going to get respect on the ground, she needs to prove herself. Clarke does the only thing she can think of. Straightening her spine, she steps right up to his gigantic form. The action is beyond stupid and she knows it **–** so much for staying out of trouble. 

“Are you challenging General Beorn Wanheda?” taunts Igor, “I would hate to see a pretty girl like you lose a head just to prove a point about respect. Do you also think it to be wise to give a mere Azgedian warrior access to such power?” Igor slinks closer to Clarke and Beorn, cutting Xavier off from the three. Igor only stops when his warm breath grazes the side of Clarke’s cheek. “If you are so careless with your life Wanheda, maybe I should be the one to harness death? Do not worry I promise my knife is sharp; it won’t hurt. But truthfully killing you would only be half the fun. Before slitting your throat, I’ll take you back to my tent and tear off these fancy clothes. I’m sure your impressive chest will keep me busy for awhile.” Igor slyly winks. Reaching out his finger, he generously trails down the neckline of Clarke’s plunging dress. Only stopping when his hand meets the bottom of her breast. “How about you let me show you how a true grounder can ride a woman. What do you say Wanheda? I’ve slept with many princesses, but never one from the sky.”

Igor cups the side of her face. Once Clarke’s initial shock wears away, she spurs into action and grabs his wrist. Using the momentum of her fast movement she spins Igor around wrapping his arm like a chicken wing behind his back. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she tilts his head back and whispers into his ear.

“The only skin of mine you will be feeling will be my knuckles when I hit you in the face. If I ever hear you speaking so ill to anyone again, I promise it won’t be just your tongue you’ll be losing.” Clarke applies a little upward pressure onto Igor’s folded arm. The force puts a painful strain on the shoulder’s socket making Igor clench his jaw to avoid crying out.

Clarke releases Igor from her hold. Without restraining herself, she throws him into the Azgeda giant. Who seems to be just as shocked as the other bystanders who have also noticed the tense commotion. Igor spins around. His stunned emotion cannot conceal the expression of his damaged pride. He slips his hand underneath his garment as if reaching for something in his pocket. Readying for a possible attack, Clarke positions herself into a defensive position.

“Is there a problem over here?” The voice resonates with authority from behind Clarke. Igor immediately bows his head and sheepishly pulls his hand out of his garment. Keeping whatever contraband smuggled in a hidden secret.

“No of course not Heda. Wanheda was just showing us some defensive moves of the Skaikru. I must say I am quite taken by her talents,” said Igor as he tenderly rubs his shoulder. “Thank you Wanheda for your lessons here today, but I am afraid I must cut them short. I have promised General Beorn that I would introduce him to Ambassador Kerbasi to discuss our potential trade routes. Have a great rest of your evening.”

“Heda.”

“Heda.”

Both men dip their head in respect. As they leave, eavesdropping spectators continue to observe the Commander. All expectant of her next actions. After watching minutes of tense silence between the two girls, many lose interest and their focus is directed back onto their own social circles.

“I thought I made myself clear as to how sacred these ceremonies are for our Coalition. The air is already tense enough with all thirteen clans in one room. So you could imagine my surprise when witnessing you and Igor about to turn this hall into a sparring ring.” Lexa clenches her fists as if attempting to suppress her emotions, “Clarke of the Skai, you better have a proper explanation for your behaviour. To disrespect this ceremony is a direct insult to me.”

From the way Lexa’s jaw clenches, she is in full Commander mode. Clarke knows Lexa’s harshness is necessary for the audience but cannot help but feel personally attacked. It’s irrational to expect Lexa to give her special treatment. But after Igor’s poisonous words Clarke wants nothing more than to cry in Lexa’s embrace. This is the first time Clarke has experienced the complexity of loving the Commander and she hates it.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You what?”

“You heard me, I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You almost provoked a brawl in this place. Which by doing so deliberately disrespects me and now you further insult me by choosing to ignore your Commander’s request. You do realize the punishment of your actions is to be flogged in the streets?” Lexa’s brows furrow at her own words, but quickly return to her usual stoic expression.

Clarke’s eyes well with unwanted tears, “I think I would prefer to be flogged ten times over than what I have just endured.” A single tear escapes down her cheek. Clarke is fast enough to brush the evidence away from any onlookers but is too slow for Lexa not to notice it. “As a member of this Coalition I understand the consequences of my actions. If I must be punished, then so be it.” Clarke hesitates for a moment before continuing. Leaning in closer Clarke’s voice drops to a barely audible whisper, “I know that as much as you are Lexa you are equally a Commander, so I want you to know nothing will change between us if you must fulfill your duties.”

“There is no need for such actions tonight,” said Lexa sighing as her features soften. “Igor on the other hand is one who does not forgive so easily. He is a man slow to forget and is fueled with a lust for revenge. For your safety please have Lyra escort you back to your quarters. It is late, no one would question your whereabouts should you retire.”

Clarke’s nod releases the tension in Lexa’s posture. Under any other circumstances, Clarke would have liked to socialize more. But after Igor all she wants to do is retreat to her room. Plus, Clarke knows that returning to her room will allow Lexa to see to the rest of her duties without being overwhelmed knowing Igor could seek his vengeance at any moment.

“If it is not too late, remember your promise.”

“Of course. A good Commander never breaks their word.”

* * *

**_ANYA_ **

Thankfully the remaining people begin to retire for the evening. It would be considered quite late for some, but there are a few grounder clans known to celebrate well into the night and the Trikru are one of them. Anya watches as Lexa nods in acknowledgement to the weary eyed guests finally trickling back to their rooms.

Soon the only ones remaining in the hall is a tired Commander and two exhausted generals. Even though the night went relatively smooth, Anya can tell Lexa is drained. Lexa is good at detaching herself, but after awhile keeping up the façade of the Commander takes its toll.

“You should be very proud Heda. The ceremony and feast have been successful; congratulations, Azgeda is officially under your rule,” said Indra breaking the silence. “I will have guards posted to patrol the halls throughout the night, should a few of our guests decide to continue the celebrations unattended.”

“I agree Indra. Anya, has Luna provided any reports on Azgeda?”

“Yes Heda. Luna has observed some interactions which I think will provide us with valuable information. According to her reports it appears that the Rockline and Blue Cliff spent much time conversing with the Ice nation. At this time, Luna could not report much of what was said, but since both these clans share borders with Azgeda, it would not be unreasonable to assume strong alliances will form between these three.

She also mentioned that Lovisa kom Podakru or her Ambassador Naios, did not have any form of interaction with the new clan. Of course, this was to be expected as the Lake people were the ones who suffered the most when the Coalition was at war with the Ice nation many years ago.”

“Very good. We are fortunate that no blood was shed here tonight. Hopefully our luck will continue during the next couple weeks. However, the true test of the Coalition’s strength will be tested when we meet to discuss trade and other matters. Only then will we be able to observe clan dynamics.”

“Heda,” said Indra. “Do I need to have my warriors watch the interactions between the Skaikru and Blue Cliff? Had you not interceded so quickly the night would have looked very different.”

“Yes, I believe that to be wise Indra. Anya, were you able to do as I requested?”

“Yes Heda. I talked with Xavier before he left for the night.” Anya pauses looking towards Indra for guidance, “But perhaps we should save this discussion for tomorrow once you are more rested.”

“Speak now Anya. I need to know.”

“Maybe Anya is right Heda, it is already late. This conversation can wait until we have all slept well.”

“I will not leave here until I get answers!” Lexa impatiently slaps her hand onto the table, “What did Igor do to provoke Clarke?”

“I am in no authority to command you. But please, you must promise both Indra and I you will act as a _Commander_ once you learn the truth.”

Lexa nods. Lexa may be tired, but Anya knows she understands what is being asked of her. Whatever happened Lexa must react with her head and not her heart. Anya nervously looks at Indra, who gives her a reassuring nod. Here goes nothing.

* * *


	13. Wanheda Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation from Wanheda Part I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! A couple of things. First, I just wanted to clarify in case there was any confusion. But we are still in the past. Meaning as of this chapter, Clarke is Clarke, she is Skaikru and has no allegiance with Azgeda whatsoever. The good news is I promise that by after next Wednesday's posts you will know just how Clarke becomes Klark. Meaning we are so close to the present time line. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. Stay tuned for Sunday as one of the two chapters may or may not be my favourites from the past timeline - LMS

**_CLARKE_ **

From the way the moon sits in the sky, Clarke can tell the sun is about to make its appearance. She is tired both physically and emotionally from the branding ceremony because Niylah had been right, she was the centre of attention. Tonight she met many leaders and Ambassadors, but her favourite was by far Xavier kom Delfikru. So gentle and kind, she enjoyed his conversation, well until Igor interrupted. Clarke’s skin crawls at thought.

Recalling how scared she felt in that moment is enough to make her eyes brim with tears. Never has Clarke experienced such an unwanted interaction and it makes her sick. If it had taken place anywhere else? Clarke shudders, stopping herself from thinking about the situation further. The weight of his threats still sits heavy in her mind, which is why she has decided to distract herself by painting. Painting has always been a release and with each brush of colour she finds comfort.

Clarke adds a little more paint to her palette and looks back up at her work in progress. She wanted to capture a moment in tonight’s ceremony and felt choosing a happy memory would help lessen the distress Igor caused. After some thought, Clarke decided to paint herself kneeling to Lexa. Because it was in that moment Clarke realized Lexa could be her anchor.

Clarke stares down at the canvas. In her elegant black dress Lexa stands in front of the throne. Fingers are clasped behind her back and Lexa’s chin is tilted in such a way everyone knows who is in charge. It is a rare sight, but Lexa’s face is void of her formal warpaint, but that does not mean her look is any less fierce. Just as it had been at the ceremony, Indra and Anya stand on either side of their Commander. Indra intimidatingly holds a spear while her usual, almost grumpy like, expression rests on her face. Anya is equally as fierce as she holds one hand on her pommel.

At the base of the podium, Clarke has painted herself as Wanheda kneeling before Lexa. Clarke has never liked painting herself, so has decided to keep her face hidden. Blonde braids fall in such a way her face's profile is shielded by her golden hair.

The people in the background have proved to be the challenging part of this piece. Since Clarke has only met some of them once, she must strain her memory to recall their features. So far, she has completed the Azgeda clan. A cold gaze of the Ice Queen stares intently at Wanheda and to Nia’s right is General Beorn. The beast of a warrior Clarke hopes she will never have to meet again.

Clarke plans to tackle the Floukru next. Then she will move onto her peoples’ section. She feels bad that she didn’t have much time to interact with her people. But from what she observed, the Skaikru seemed to be meshing well with the others. A reassuring observation. Her mother on the other hand was more hostile than the rest. Clarke winces slightly. She obviously can’t avoid the Chancellor any longer and will eventually have to reconcile whatever tension they have going on.

Before Clarke can think about her mother any longer, two hands slip over her eyes. She was so concentrated on her painting; Clarke did not even hear the click of the door. Regardless of the intrusion, the action causes her stomach to twist into butterflies. 

“I was hoping you were still coming,” said Clarke as a large smile breaks across her face, “I was worried it was already too late.”

When Clarke turns around, the harmless intruder’s grin is just as large as her own. But to Clarke’s surprise, she is not met with eyes the colour of the forest but rather dark, chocolate ones matching the colour of his sweeping curls. Before Clarke can question further, Bellamy pulls her in and places an eager kiss on her lips.

Slightly stunned, Clarke hesitates. She never expected to be in a situation like this. But just as she is about to pull away, Bellamy’s strong arms pull her in further. The subtle hints of earth and musk mixed with a sense of secureness in the embrace unravel Clarke’s hesitations. As she too, reciprocates the kiss. Truthfully, Clarke has always wondered what it would be like to kiss Bellamy and now that she is, she’s curious for more. As if reading her thoughts, Bellamy pushes Clarke back against the desk, toppling over a glass of water.

The cool liquid splashes down both their legs, but that doesn’t cease Bellamy’s momentum. With a swift motion, Bellamy picks Clarke up and places her on top the desk giving him easier access to her neck. Tilting her head back, Clarke’s hands curl over the corners of the desk as Bellamy’s passionate kisses tease along her v-neck shirt and past her collarbone. Biting the corner of her lip, Clarke tries to conceal the pleasurable feelings the firm caress has on her. But when a strange hand finds the hem of Clarke’s shirt, her reality firmly snaps back into place. She’s not thinking of him; she’s thinking of _her._ It will always be her.

“Stop.” Clarke pushes Bellamy back, “Bel, stop, this isn’t right.”

“Marry me Clarke.” His deep voice whispers into her ear. The three words hit like a tidal wave. Causing her to pull away further, but he gently pulls her back as his large hands cup the sides of her face, “The time we have spent apart has made me realize I cannot live in this world without you Clarke. Come home with me and become my princess forever.”

Clarke goes to speak, but all that escapes is a rush of air. She has waited her whole life to hear such words, but they hold nothing but disappointment. She cares for Bellamy, she truly does. But when she imagines the future, Clarke can’t help but hope the next time an unexpected guest sneaks up she turns to find eyes the colour of the forest staring back. It will always be _her_.

“I am sorry, but I can’t.”

“What?” As if smacked in the face, Bellamy backs away, “If you don’t want to come back to Arkadia we can stay here. Hell, we can go anywhere as long as we’re together.”

Clarke’s throat tightens, “No, you don’t understand. I can’t marry you Bel.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

His lower lip trembles slightly and Clarke cannot help but feel guilty from the pain she is causing him. But then reminds herself, her heart belongs to someone else. 

“I love you. I truly do, but my heart fully belongs to someone else.” Clarke reaches down to his large hand, but as soon as she makes contact the warmth of his touch is quickly pulled away from her.

“Who?” With glossy eyes, he reaches for his jacket.

“Does that matter?”

“No, I guess not.” From the way his lips press together, Clarke can tell his sudden onset of hurt is quickly changing to anger, “And I bet it’s a dam grounder too; maybe its best I do not know because I would probably kill him.”

“Wait Bellamy, don’t leave like this.” Clarke reaches out for his hand again, but once more he shakes it off. “Bellamy please, let’s just talk th-”

Her doors slams, cutting her off midspeech. Clarke sighs, he’ll come around; he always does. Slumping against the wall Clarke wipes away her tears. Besides the hurt she has just caused Bellamy; Clarke knows she has made the right decision. In fact, she is grateful this happened because Clarke has confirmed the very thing she has always suspected. Until her last breath, it will always be _her_.

* * *

It has been nearly two hours since Bellamy’s interruption and Clarke finds herself back on the stool finishing her portrait. The more time she has spent thinking of Bellamy’s interaction the more she feels at peace with her decision. But if anything, Clarke hopes he will let her see him before the Skaikru return to Arkadia. It would be nice to make some sort of amends. 

_“Bang!”_

Without warning her door slams open. The obtrusive noise causes Clarke to jump, sending the paintbrush slipping from her grasp. Black paint streaks across the concrete floor leaving evidence of its sudden fall. Turning towards the intrusion Clarke takes in a Lexa she has never met before.

Lexa’s fists are clenched so tightly, her knuckles look as if they are about to pop out of the whitened skin. Her nostrils are flared, and the sound of her grinding teeth fills the room’s silence. But what startles Clarke the most is the look in Lexa’s eyes. Darkened to a colour Clarke never thought to be possible; they are deadly, filled with hate, as if ready to kill.

“Lexa…?” Clarke hesitates, “Lexa what is wrong?”

Clarke is not sure why she asked. If her suspicions are correct this reaction has nothing to do with Bellamy, and everything to do with earlier this evening. The scene between her and Igor was not without an audience, meaning Lexa has finally heard the full story. 

Lexa inhales sharply. Grabbing one of Clarke’s books, she launches it with all her might. The book sails with great speed smacking into the fireplace wall. On impact the book’s spine splits wide open, sending an explosion of pages haphazardly into the air.

“How dare Igor touch you like that!” Lexa slams both her fists into Clarke’s desk, “How dare he treat you with such deplorable disrespect! And to think he wants to make you his plaything?! The thought of him makes me fucking sick!” An empty chair crashes over from the force of Lexa’s kick. “No one should be allowed to subject such dishonour! I want to drag him out into the streets and hack him limb from limb. I want to slowly torture him and once I strip him of all his dignity, I’ll feed him to the crows and watch him suffer. I want to cut away his manhood so he will never ever be a threat to you or anyone else again!”

Another book soars into the air. With a loud thud it collides with the wall as tears of frustration well up in Lexa’s eyes. To stop them from overflowing Lexa pinches the bridge of her nose, but it’s too late. A steady stream slips past Lexa’s defenses, trailing down her reddened face.

“I hold so much power but when it comes to dealing with Igor my hands are tied.” Lexa wipes the trailing water from her cheeks, “Igor is a disgrace. But as much as I would like to, his actions do not warrant any punishment from the Commander. To preserve the entire Coalition, I promised Anya I will act with my head and not my heart. And I hate myself for it because it means I cannot defend you like you deserve.”

“Lexa come here, it’s fine. I took care of it.”

“No, It’s not fine! He assaulted you Clarke. And I cannot do anything about it!”

“Lexa, come here,” said Clarke extending her hand. Interlocking their fingers, she pulls Lexa into an embrace. Burying her head into Lexa’s neck, Clarke tries to hide her own tears. She’s trying to act tough, but truthfully the event has left Clarke feeling nothing but nauseous from the memory. But as upset as she is, Clarke knows if Lexa sees her hurting it may spark Lexa to do something incredibly irrational. Massaging Lexa’s back, her rigid posture relaxes against Clarke’s touch.

“Anya is right, you must act with your head. How would you explain the execution of a clan leader? Very few saw his actions, the rest think I was just showing him a few Skaikru tricks. I am not excusing his behaviour, but you must promise to stay out of this one. Trust me when I say I can take care of this myself,” said Clarke wiping away the last of Lexa’s tears.

“I know you are capable Clarke. I think you have surprised many tonight with your display. How come you have kept your abil-”

“Ssssh. I promise to answer all your questions as soon as you calm down a few notches. It still feels like you are going to run and kill the man in his sleep.” Clarke squeezes Lexa’s shoulders to make her point, “You are incredible uptight; come sit on this stool, I am going to help you relax.”

Lexa reluctantly takes a seat, but as soon as she sees Clarke’s work in progress her eyes light up.

“Clarke, this image! It’s an exact replication from tonight. It looks so real and just look at Indra. Her scowl is so much like her.”

“Do you like it so far?”

“Yes, it’s incredible. I will always cherish this moment. When you were walking towards me Clarke, I almost lost all concentration because of your beauty.”

Clarke laughs, “So that was your problem? I have never seen you so focused.”

“My will power was tested, yes, but it will be a moment I will always remember. And you’re right I am starting to feel better, thank you.”

“Oh, we aren’t done yet.” Clarke rubs small circles into Lexa’s neck. When Clarke’s contact ceases Lexa whimpers in protest.

“Here, hold out your palms,” instructs Clarke as she places a paint brush and palette into Lexa’s unsure hands. When Lexa accepts the items Clarke cannot help but laugh as she rearranges the awkward grip, “Lexa this is a paintbrush, not a sword. Let’s start by holding it properly.”

“Clarke, I don’t understand? You want me to paint?”

“Yes. I think it will prove to be a good distraction from tonight’s events. I don’t expect you to paint forever, just a few strokes that is all. Who knows, we might even find your hidden Picasso.”

“My what?”

Clarke smiles. Sometimes she forgets the historical gap the grounders and her people share.

“He was a famous painter in the old world; an incredibly talented artist. Now dip the brush into the black, we are going to finish Luna’s cloak.”

“Clarke I shouldn’t. What if I ruin it? All your hard work will be a waste.”

“Trust me you will not ruin it. I will be here guiding you every step of the way. But if you do get a little wild, I promise I will be able to fix it once it dries.”

Lexa twists her lips. Clarke can tell she still thinks this is a terrible idea, but Clarke persists. Carefully Lexa dips the tip of the bristles into the colour glistening on the palette. Her movements are slower than necessary but from Lexa’s determined look Clarke knows she wants to get it just right.

“Not too much paint! Here, let’s wipe some of that off.” Clarke pulls out a cloth and wipes away the excessive amounts. “Too much paint will cause the colours to run, but too little your brush won’t glide smoothly. Here try this.” Clarke hands a freshly dipped brush back to Lexa.

Lexa inhales as if mustering up courage. Taking the brush, she inches it closer, but as soon as Lexa is almost touching Luna’s image, she stops.

“This is stressful.”

Clarke smiles at the slight tremble in Lexa’s strong hand. Who knew painting would freeze the mighty Commander in place?

“Lexa, you haven’t even touched the canvas yet,” teases Clarke, “Here, let me help you. The first stroke is always the hardest.” Wrapping her arm around, Clarke places her hand overtop Lexa’s. Immediately the tremble in Lexa's hand stops. 

When paint meets its new home on the canvas, Lexa holds her breath. From her awed expression Clarke knows Lexa is finally experiencing the thrill of art.

“That’s it. Perfect!” Clarke praises as she points to the painting, “The trick to make Luna’s cloak look real is blending in other shades of colours. This will create the illusion of depth.”

As they bring Luna to life Clarke continues to educate Lexa on the secrets of artistry. Truthfully, Clarke is not sure Lexa is really listening to the rant, but Clarke doesn’t care. Being in this room, sharing her passion with Lexa, brings Clarke so much joy. After an hour or so they finally inspect their masterpiece.

“We did good, didn’t we?” said Lexa.

“We sure did.” Clarke smirks at the prideful swell in Lexa’s chest. The session was exactly what both girls needed. Well, even if the cloak took much longer than it should have. A small detail Clarke decides to keep from Lexa. It was her first time after all.

“Well you did take over, so I cannot take too much credit,” teases Lexa.

Clarke laughs, “Lexa you were making Luna look fat! I couldn’t have her in my painting two times her normal size. What if she saw that! She would have been offended!”

“I suppose it would be a tragedy to offend Luna. If she stops her trade negotiations, how else would I be able to get you your salted fish?”

“Oh the tragedy, what would I ever eat?” said Clarke rolling her eyes, “But most importantly, how do you feel.”

“Much better. Thank you Clarke.”

“So, I think this is an appropriate time to say, ‘I told you so?’” 

“Mockery is not a-”

“Product of a strong mind. Yes, yes I know. But for once how about you let me teach the lesson Lexa.”

“Which is?”

“That you need to find yourself a hobby in order to unwind. And no, stabbing things does not count.”

“A hobby? What does this mean?”

“Well it is something that you enjoy in your spare time. It is a way you can relax and find peace after a long day. You don’t have to be an expert at it right away just as long as you find something that brings you great happiness.”

“Hmmm. Yes, I think I understand.” Lexa stares off thoughtfully into the air, before bringing her attention back to Clarke, “Clarke…”

“Yes?”

“Will you be my hobby?”

Clarke erupts in laughter, “I don’t think it works that way Lexa. If I didn’t know any better, it almost sounds like you are asking me to marry you.”

“Marry? Another strange word Clarke of the sky.”

“Maybe this is just a Skaikru custom. But I guess the best way to explain marriage would be when two people love each other they choose to make a commitment to spend the rest of their life together.” Clarke pauses slightly as she thinks about Bellamy’s proposal earlier tonight, “To symbolize the promise, the pair usually exchange rings and eventually they make it official during a ceremony.”

Lexa ponders Clarke’s words, “On the ground we have similar customs, we call it bonded. To be bonded with someone also means a commitment for life. There are two phases to become bonded. The first happens when it is decided the people cannot live without the other. It is at this time the two become each others _niron,_ I think the Skaikru word is lover. The second phase is where a small ceremony is performed. A single witness is all that is needed for the ritual to be sealed. It is here the two seal the bond with tattoos.”

“Tattoos?”

“Yes tattoos. These tattoos won’t be the same, but they will symbolize something meaningful. Once a pair is officially bonded, they will be tied together for eternity. It is said that as their earthly bodies pass the two souls will always find a path back to each other in the next life. Sometimes the desire to be together is so strong the shaman calls it _keryon_ _soujon_.” 

“That sounds very beautiful,” said Clarke sheepishly looking to the ground, “so, does this mean I’m I your _niron_ Lexa?”

“Yes my Clarke you are. That is only if you would like to be.”

Almost too eagerly, Clarke nods her head, “But how does this work? I mean with the other clans and all.”

“Traditionally Commander’s do not pursue a bonded connection. We are taught our entire lives that our duty is to our people and our people alone. We enjoy plenty of bed warmers, yes, but tend to never engage in connections so deep and sacred as a bonded.

I, however, am not your traditional Commander. I am the first to forge thirteen clans together. I am the first to see the mountain fall. And I am the first to have reigned for this long. So when you found your way back to me, I did not see the problem in adding another first. Clarke you have been my _niron_ the moment you held a knife to my throat.” Lexa lightly squeezes Clarke’s hand as if to emphasize her point, “I may be Commander, but I have realized without you I am nothing.”

Clarke immediately feels a warm blush from Lexa’s romance. But as she thinks about Lexa’s words, she is overcome with guilt remembering what happened between her and Bellamy. Lexa had never indicated that she and Clarke were so, well exclusive. Had Clarke known, she would have never dared entertain the thought of Bellamy.

“Lexa?”

“Yes?”

“I have to be honest with you, something else happened tonight.”

“Oh?” Lexa’s brows crease with slight worry.

“Bellamy came to visit me tonight. And… well.” Clarke stutters, trying to find the right words. “He kissed me. I never expected him to come to my room; it was just all so sudden. I’m so sorry Lexa because I know that I have hurt you.”

Immediately Lexa’s eyes darken. From their hardened appearance Clarke can tell she is overcome with jealousy.

“I won’t stop you Clarke. If he is where your heart resides, I do no-”

“No! I love him Lexa, but not like that. I told him my heart belongs to someone else,” said Clarke as she places a soft kiss onto Lexa’s cheek. An action that immediately causes Lexa’s hardened features to soften. “My heart has chosen you; it will always be you.”

The soft smile lining Lexa’s face reassures Clarke that she is forgiven. A sight that brings instant relief. 

“But if we are going to do this Lexa, there is one thing I expect from my _niron_ going forward.”

“Yes?”

“I wish to never sleep apart from you again." Clarke pauses, "That is only if you are ready.”

“If that is your wish it is yours.” Lexa pulls Clarke in and places a tender kiss on top of her forehead. “However, I have one condition too. We will not make this public knowledge until all the clans have returned to their homes. So will need to keep things very discreet. Luckily, I am friends with the head handmaiden, so I think we can manage such an arrangement.”

“Well it’s settled then. Let's rest. I can already see the sun beginning to rise in the horizon. And I am sure you would rather not have dark circles for tomorrow’s audiences.”

Lexa softly chuckles, “My kohl will conceal my sleepless eyes.”

“Well you will need your brain too silly. What’s the point of looking pretty if your mind is tired? That won’t do anybody any good now will it?” 

Pulling up the thick furs Clarke nestles into Lexa and rests her head on top of Lexa's chest. The warmth from Lexa is intoxicating and the thought of never sleeping alone again is enough to pull Clarke closer to a peaceful sleep.

“Goodnight my _niron.”_

“Goodnight my lover,” said a sleepy Clarke. “Wait Lexa…”

“mhmmm?”

“If I am your _niron_ now. What will I be once we are bonded?”

“My _houman_ Clarke. You will become my wife.” 

_Wife._ Clarke smiles. So this is how it’s supposed to feel. Who knew one word would make her so expectant for the future.


	14. Doppelgänger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Beorn begins planning his mission. He will do everything he can to ensure its successful completion. While Raven discovers Clarke is keeping more secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday! I hope everyone is enjoying their weekend so far. So here is today's two chapters. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Thanks for reading - LMS
> 
> PS: All the posts from today to next Sunday may be filled with a whole range of feels. Perhaps borderline roller coaster? Or maybe i'm just too sensitive ;) Anyways here we go, so close to the present timeline now. See you Wednesday.

**35 days since the fall of the mountain**

**_BEORN_ **

They have been in Polis for a little over a week and Beorn is already counting the days until they return to his homeland. If anything, he will miss Polis’ food, but that is it. The south is just too hot, plus the unfamiliar smells and landscapes makes him uncomfortable.

The North is where his comforts lie. The cold is by far much more preferred than this ball of fire in the sky. He even likes his own trees better. In Azgeda the forests are far denser, filled with towering evergreen trees rather than the leafy poplars of the Trikru. Sure, the Trikru have the advantage to sneak above the ground. But the North’s terrain can be so thick even the best Azgeda scouts have been known to get lost a time or two.

It has been just over four days since Azgeda was initiated as the thirteenth clan and it was that night he received word of his special mission from the Ice Queen. The Queen is adamant that this assignment be fulfilled, and it must be done with upmost secrecy. Not even Chester has been brought into the loop – a move that doesn’t entirely surprise Beorn.

To the other clans Chester may be as devious as they come; however, compared to other Azgedians Chester is probably one who holds the highest ethical standards. A characteristic that could create potential problems for Nia, which is why Beorn believes he is the only one aware of Nia’s true intentions in Polis.

Beorn knows he must succeed. Not only does his promotion depend on it, but Nia has told him that his success would secure the future of Azgeda’s final ascension to power.

 _“Should I fail_?” Beorn shudders at the thought. Should he return to Azgeda empty handed he might as well slit his own throat and be done with it. But he will not rest until he completes his task. If all goes as planned, he has roughly about two weeks to set everything into motion. It is a tight timeline, which is why he finds himself quickly walking towards the poorest sections of Polis.

His orders were clear: “ _blonde, orphaned, similar build, most importantly someone who will not be missed.”_ Beorn repeats the list over and over. He is on a race against time and the future of Azgeda rests heavily on his back.

* * *

**_CLARKE_ **

“Hey princess, would yah slow down a bit! Remember I am a gimp, right?”

Clarke shortens her strides, “I am sorry Raven. I guess excitement has got the best of me today.”

“I can see that. You’ve had your head in the clouds all morning.” Raven catches up to Clarke. Breathing heavy she wipes the sweat away from her forehead as she attempts to regain her breath, “What is it we need in the markets again?”

“I need to see the metal worker; I have a special request for him.”

“Wait… special request? Do not tell me this is for your mysterious lover. Someone you’ve been keeping so secretive I’m starting to believe they do not exist.”

“I promise in time Ray. For our…” Clarke catches herself, “well actually more like for my own safety we have both agreed it would be best to keep things under the radar until the excitement in Polis ceases.”

“So, basically what you’re telling me is that this unidentified person is sorta important? Let me guess, is it that the buff guard outside the Commander’s quarters?! No never mind, not your type.” Raven squints in thought, “Hmmm how about one of the Commander’s Generals? Oh I know how about Deroji?!”

“Deroji?” Clarke rolls her eyes, “He’s a little old for me don’t you think?”

“Okay you might be right. How about that Anya chic? I mean she has legs for days.”

“Nope.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s that grumpy old bald guy. You do look like you could favour a man with tattoos. But if it is him, so help me god Clarke I will probably strangle you myself.”

“Okay fine you caught me.”

“Really?!” Raven’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“For how smart you are, you are sure gullible.” Clarke chuckles; it’s moments like this Clarke realizes how much she has missed her friends.

“Can you give me a hint? Maybe just a letter? Please?!”

“Raven you are honestly something else. Lucky for me, you won’t be getting your hint because we are here.” Turning to Raven Clarke rests her hand on Raven’s shoulder for emphasis, “Now whatever you do please keep your hands to yourself. I don’t want to be paying for anything your clumsy ass breaks.”

"You got it princess." 

The inside of the shop is just as Clarke expected. A variety of different metals hang in sheets along the walls of the workshop. Displayed along the back wall is a collection of different weapons Clarke presumes are for sale. When she steps closer a smaller sized sword immediately catches her eye. It is much shorter than the others, but the elegant design etched into the blade’s face draws her in. Carefully Clarke pulls it off the display and firmly grips the white leathered handle.

Clarke is by no means a weapons expert (Anya has just graduated the lessons to real swords now that Clarke is less of a hazard since proving herself), but Anya has taught Clarke a thing or two about a well-balanced weapon. Clarke rotates her wrist slightly. Even an amateur like herself can tell this is a beautiful sword.

“Ah a good choice. One of my personal favourites too.” The blacksmith steps over as if eager to make a bargain, “I can make it yours for a special price.”

Clarke takes in the owner of shop. He is much older than his voice led on and resting at the sides of his leather apron are his large, callused hands. Evidence of a lifetime dedication to his trade.

“Wanheda,” The man falls into a deep bow. “My apologies. I did not recognize you. Please forgive me for my impoliteness.”

“No need…” Clarke pauses hoping the shop owner picks up on the hint.

“Alec.”

“No apologies are needed Alec. I must say this is a beautiful sword. Its weight is perfectly balanced.”

“Thank you Wanheda.”

“Did you design it yourself?”

“Yes. The inspiration for its design came to me after I heard that Azgeda would be joining us as the thirteenth clan. If you look here,” said Alec pointing to the carvings in the sword’s blade, “these engravings are ancient Trikru markings for peace. And the white leather is meant to symbolize the snows of Azgeda.”

“You should be proud of yourself Alec. Anyone would be fortunate to yield such a blade. It truly is incredible.”

“Please Wanheda, take it for yourself as a gift. I would be honoured if it would be yours.”

“Alec I can not possibly accept such a thing.”

“Please Wanheda. Your actions at the mountain returned my _houman_ back into my arms. It is the only way I can properly thank you for what you have done.”

Clarke remembers her past conversation with Niylah. The handmaiden had previously warned her that grounders take great offense if one rejects a gift. So she decides to not push the issue further, regardless of how guilty she feels for taking such an expensive item.

“Actually,” Alec reaches beneath his counter, “the blade comes as a set. Here is her sister Wanheda.”

Clarke’s guilt amplifies, but she does not show it, “Thank you, Alec, your kindness is undeserved. I promise I will yield them with honour.”

Alec puffs his chest at her acceptance and carefully begins to wrap the dual blades into a protective cloth. Clarke looks over to Raven who is in deep conversation with Lyra. Thankfully Raven has kept to her promise and is behaving. Clarke adores Reyes, but sometimes Raven can be a little obnoxious, especially in terms of grounder culture.

“Alec, there is actually another reason I'm in your shop today. I was wondering if you could design something for me. I don’t think it should be too difficult, but just in case you would like more clarity I have brought you a drawing.”

Clarke reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. Carefully she unravels the parchment and hands over the design. Alec intently looks it over, as if taking in every detail Clarke has instructed.

“This is very beautiful Wanheda. Truthfully, I do not get very many requests for such items, but I promise I will be able to deliver what you have asked.” Alec inspects the paper further and soon a slight smile crosses his face. “It is not my place to know, but I assume from the words you wish to be engraved on the inside this is for someone special perhaps?”

Clarke feels her face flush. Since the talk she had shared with Lexa a few days ago, she can’t stop thinking about the future with her. Clarke even spent all morning trying to translate the words into Trig herself, but after a few hours gave up and called in reinforcements. Talia may not be a warrior, but luckily for Clarke the older woman is well versed in the ground’s languages – a rare talent for the working class, but in Polis many tradesmen also learn literacy so they can serve the needs of others more effectively.

“Yes, it is. If isn't too much to ask, could you please translate it for me? I just want to confirm I wrote it down correctly.”

“Hmmm let me see,” Alec pauses. Squinting his eyes in concentration he makes the translation, _“_ May my soul forever find its way back to you. That's beautiful Wanheda. Are these the words you have intended?”

“Yes, thank-you. Now I’m a little concerned. Will that sentence be able to fit in the inside of the ring?” In Clarke’s peripherals Raven’s head whips quickly away from Lyra’s conversation. Instantly Clarke feels the heat of two eyes burrowing into the side of her face.

“ _Sha_ , Wanheda. It will be difficult, but my apprentice has the best hands in the Coalition. I promise it will be everything you desire.” Alec gestures towards the sheets of hanging material, “Now is there a specific metal you would prefer?”

“No, but I was hoping for something subtle, maybe a charcoal like colour? And if possible, I was wondering if the outside could remain in a hammered texture instead of being smoothed?” 

“Ah yes of course. Is there anything else Wanheda?”

“No, thank-you Alec. Once it is done please send word and I will come over promptly. Just out of curiosity, do you know how long it will take?”

“A ring this size less than a day, but due to the engravings it will take longer. I would expect you to hear from my apprentice within the next two days.”

“Thank you Alec. And thanks again for the swords, you are far too kind.”

“Anything for you Wanheda.”

In unison they both dip their heads and carefully Clarke grabs the cloth bundle that contains her new swords. As soon as she steps out of shop, Clarke braces herself for impact.

“Clarke Abigail Griffin!” Raven stomps her braced foot into the ground. From the way Raven’s face twists with a mixture of anger and hurt, Clarke knows she is upset about being shutout of her life once again. “You have thirty seconds to explain yourself, because to me it sounds like this mysterious person is soon to be a mysterious fiancé.”

“Look I know how this looks. I didn’t realize grounders do things differently because apparently I have been unknowingly engaged for a while.” Clarke laughs at her own ignorance. Once again there’s a slight tinge of guilt that simmers in her stomach. Had she known they were official; she would have never kissed Bellamy back. “I know we are on the ground, but I just want to incorporate some of our own traditions. You know?”

“I guess. But like first you run away from us, and now you’re going to be running away with a grounder forever? Is this person at least from a close clan? I mean Clarke, don’t you think I deserve to know where you are going to be?”

A new layer of guilt stirs in her stomach. Raven may be civil, but Clarke can tell she is still hurt about the time she chose to spend in the forest.

“I promise Raven, once it is safe to tell, you will be the first to know.”

“Okay fine. But if you tell O before me. I will find you.”

“Don’t worry. You will be on, wait what’s the old-world phrase? Oh yes that’s right. I promise you’re on my speed dial”


	15. The Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are eased as Polis says its farewell to Queen Nia and her warriors. Meanwhile Clarke makes a decision that will impact her for the rest of her life.

**42 days since the fall of the mountain**

**_LEXA_ **

Lexa adjusts her red sash allowing it to fall more freely from underneath her pauldron. She decided to dress in a more traditional outfit today, not because it was required, but rather Lexa hoped it would send the Ice Queen one last message as they exchange farewells.

Over the past weeks the excitement in Polis has been on the decline as clans slowly begin departing back to their own borders. Today marks the sixth departure and Azgeda will finally start its journey back North. The Ice guests have surprisingly behaved themselves, but regardless of their polished behaviour Lexa is not sad to see them leave. With the Ice Queen almost gone and Igor’s clan most likely halfway home by now, Lexa will finally be able to relax knowing that Clarke is safe.

Lexa presses her lips into a firm line in efforts to stop the smile threatening to seep through the Commander’s mask. Mentally she scolds herself for the near slip. But she can barely help it. It’s hard to be serious when every time she thinks about her Skai princess Lexa can hardly contain her heart from bursting from her chest. It is the first time Lexa feels truly alive. Even Anya has told her she has noticed a difference. 

This past week Lexa and Clarke have shared many moments that Lexa will cherish forever. A few days ago, there had been a lull and Lexa surprised Clarke with an afternoon swim. Lexa knew Clarke had no experience in the water, so she wanted the experience to be comfortable. She assembled a small crew Clarke would feel safe with and Anya, Indra, and Lyra accompanied them to Lexa’s favourite lake.

The lake Lexa chose has always been a haven for her, especially as a young night blood. It is a closed off, private body of water that has the best rock cliffs. One of the cliffs juts out in such a way it has served as a perfect perch for countless evening mediations.

Initially Clarke was nervous to swim. Very similar to how Lexa felt during her first painting attempt. But just as Clarke had guided Lexa to find her inner artist, Lexa took Clarke’s hand and guided Clarke to find her inner fish.

At first Clarke was terrible. There were a few times Lexa was worried that Clarke would drown. But as always, Lexa was proven wrong when Clarke emerged back to the surface flailing about. Secretly Lexa liked those moments. Because it was then she could be the hero and save her damsel in distress. But finally after an hour of frantic splashing, Clarke got the hang of things and spent the rest of the afternoon floating on her back next to Lexa.

Lexa remembers mentally cursing Talia for the swimming outfit that was packed for Clarke. It was a lightly coloured material and once it met the water it was incredibly snug and ridiculously revealing. Lexa tried her hardest not to stare, but even her chivalrous nature wasn’t enough to fight the constant temptation. Anya of course witnessed the entire ordeal from her post on the cliff. She could not stop laughing at Lexa’s torment. Thankfully, Clarke had been too preoccupied with not drowning she remained oblivious to the situation. But that doesn’t mean Lexa didn’t send her fair share of death glares up to her giggling general.

Once again Lexa fights off a smile. So far, she has kept her word to her _niron_. Not once have they slept apart. Lexa has managed to keep things relatively discrete, but of course this wouldn’t be possible without the select few helping to kept things secret. Lexa's heart jumps. In about one week all this secrecy will cease, and she will finally feel safe enough to publicly declare to Polis just how special Clarke is to her.

Lexa looks back down to the Azgeda party securing its last wagon. They have a long trip ahead of them and by no means does she envy their travels. Her attention finds Anya a few steps down. Anya’s face would be considered impassive to most, but Lexa has known Anya long enough to know there is a hint of annoyance lingering underneath her expression.

Another smile threatens to crease Lexa’s lips when she sees the likely cause of Anya’s annoyance. There beside Anya stands Clarke who sports a puffed chest and the most ridiculous of grins. Apparently just this morning Clarke finally beat Anya at fist to fist combat.

Lexa did not watch the fight, but heard every detail when Clarke ran into her room and animatedly replayed her conquest. The defeat made Lexa proud. But Lexa was sure to sneak in a daily lesson and reminded Clarke that even the best warriors carry a sense of humility. Lexa rolls her eyes. By the look on Clarke’s face, it appears her lesson has fell upon deaf ears.

The other day Lexa did muster up the courage to confront Clarke about her apparent training. Lexa was worried about it at first. But was relieved when Clarke explained that her abilities were limited to a select few – the majority whose souls have already traveled to the next life. Apparently, many of those who had once possessed the skills voluntarily suffocated when the ark was running out of oxygen in the sky. Once Lexa learnt the whole truth, she and Anya decided that since so few Skaikru held these skills the abilities posed no threat. Both unanimously decided that the issue could be left alone. 

Lexa looks back over to her Skai Princess, admiring her once again. Clarke’s slacks fit a little on the loose side, but still allows her figure to be displayed. The light blue tunic complements not only Clarke’s eyes but also the swords strapped securely to her back. Truthfully those blades were another shock to Lexa. Lexa had always thought Clarke would prefer a bow, so she was quite surprised when Clarke strolled in with two incredibly made swords.

Initially Lexa and Anya doubted Clarke’s ability to yield two blades. But once again Clarke was full of surprises. Apparently, Clarke is just as strong with her right hand as she is with her left. Clarke explained it to be due to a rare genetic trait that allows her to alternate between hands freely without losing any ability. Both Anya and Lexa were dumfounded. This is a skill many grounders train vigorously to achieve, but unfortunately very few can master it flawlessly.

“Ahem!” Indra clears her throat in a quiet, yet stern manner. Most likely an attempt to remind Lexa they are all standing at the top of these steps to give Azgeda a formal farewell. Meaning, now is not the time to gawk at her Skai Princess. “Heda, it appears Azgeda is ready for departure. Are you ready to provide the blessing?”

Lexa nods slightly to Indra as she steps down closer to the traveling party. Lexa halts when her feet meet the last stair before the cobblestone road. She is not sure why she has decided to remain slightly higher than the Ice Queen, but her last-minute decision does not go unnoticed. Nia’s face slightly creases into a frown. But just as quickly as the crease appeared, her trademarked sneer returns to her lips.

“Heda, your hospitality over these last weeks have been too kind. On behalf of all Azgeda I once again thank you for allowing us to be taken in under your protection.”

The Ice Queen dips into a shallow bow. It is a bow of minimal effort, but one that still meets the requirements to be considered respectful to her Heda. Indra lets out a humph in disgust, but the gesture doesn’t bother Lexa – she would expect nothing more from the Ice Queen.

“Likewise Nia. Thank you for trusting your clan into my protection. But as all good things come to an end, it is now time for me to bless your journey home.” Lexa pauses for a moment before finally clearing her throat, “Travellers of Azgeda, may the sword of the Old Warrior protect your path. May the hands of the Wise Healer watch over your heart. May the spirits of our past Commanders’ guide your journey home. Should this be the final time we see each other in the flesh, I pray to the spirits we will meet each other again in the next world. Until next time my friends.”

As soon as Lexa’s last word is spoken Nia dips her head. With the help of two large warriors, Nia mounts on top of her large white stallion. Eager to get started, the horse prances underneath the weight of the Queen. As if he could not wait any longer the horse’s powerful legs turn towards the gate. The journey is long and even the young stallion knows what awaits him.

When the last Azgeda rider passes through the gates Lexa’s shoulders drop with relief. She is just about to thank the spirits for giving her patience with Nia when steps along the concrete interrupt her thoughts. The boots’ soles slap hard against each step as the person descends. These are not the movements of a trained warrior and her suspicions are confirmed when a soft breeze ushers the scent of vanilla cinnamon to her nose. Finally, Lexa allows a smile.

“I have never heard that blessing before. Is it one that is said to all who leave Polis?” questions Clarke.

“No. It is one traditionally reserved for those whom I have hosted as my guests.”

“So basically, anyone who is an anyone.”

“Such a strange saying Clarke of the sky. If you are alluding that those who receive this blessing are usually of some importance, then yes, you are correct.”

“We had, or I guess we technically still have, a similar blessing we practised in the sky. It can be used for many things, but we usually use it to say goodbye. We call it the traveler’s blessing.”

“I do not want to impose, but are you willing to share it with me Clarke?”

“Of course, it goes something like this. In peace, may you leave this shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again.”

Lexa finds herself touched by the elegance of the blessing. She never expected the Skaikru to be such a spiritual clan, but then again this isn’t the first time she has been wrong in her judgement.

For some reason Lexa feels the need to memorize the words so without hesitation she begins to repeat it. Over and over she silently replays the Skaikru phrases until each line sinks into the depths of her memory. Only to stop when Azgeda’s last horse disappears into the forest.

* * *

**_CLARKE_ **

Clarke reaches for one of the larger candles and holds it to the fire. Once the wick catches the flame, she carefully places it next to the others on the floor. Before picking up another, Clarke looks down to Polis’ streets below.

She can’t tell if it is just her imagination, but to her it seems that the atmosphere around Polis has brightened since the Ice Nation left. Lexa too seems more at ease. There are still enough clans left in the city, but there is something about having the wolf return to its den that has loosened the rigid appearance in Lexa’s posture.

Clarke brings her attention back to the lit candles. She has arranged them in a circle like pattern and the flickering flames cast light onto a small bed of furs placed in the middle of candle’s circumference.

Clarke looks back towards the stairway hoping she to see Lexa. She sighs with impatience. Unfortunately, there is nothing behind her but a few flaming torches. Lexa had promised to meet Clarke at the top of the Commander’s tower as soon as possible. But warned she might be a little late due to a meeting with the Glowing forest clan. Apparently, the Ambassadors thought tonight of all nights was a good time to discuss additional trade routes.

Usually Clarke doesn’t get annoyed with Lexa’s duties, but this evening she can’t help it. Earlier today Alec’s apprentice finally delivered her special order. It had taken longer than expected because Alec wanted to get the engraving just perfect, and perfect it is.

Clarke reaches back into her pocket and pulls out the charcoal ring. Holding it up to the light she reinspects it for the hundredth time. It hasn’t changed from two minutes ago, but she can’t help herself from rereading the words over and over: _may my soul forever find its way back to you._

As soon as Clarke got the ring, she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. So she has spent the entire afternoon preparing for a romantic night under the stars. With a little help from Lyra, Clarke was able to track down Polis’ best wine and a few treats from Agatha’s bakery on the short notice. The idea of a proposal may not be the grounder’s culture, but Clarke wants to give Lexa a taste of her traditions and she wants it to be perfect.

“Clarke?”

The ring almost slips out of Clarke’s fingers as Lexa’s husky voice catches her off guard. Luckily, Clarke’s reflexes stop it from tumbling to the floor and quickly she jams it back into her pocket.

“Oh uh Lexa, um hi! I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Clarke, it was you who requested me to come to the top of my tower?”

“Yes, of course. Um what I meant was I wasn’t expecting you at this exact moment.”

“But yet you told me to meet you up here just after sunset? And by looking at the sun it is after sunset. Clarke are you oka…” Lexa pauses, eyes widening at the array of candles situated around her. “Wait my _niron,_ what is all of this?”

Clarke tries to explain herself but can’t seem to get her words out. Instead she nervously stumbles towards Lexa. Interlocking their fingers, Clarke carefully leads her closer to the light of the torches. Drawing in a large breath to calm the last minutes nerves, Clarke gives herself one last boost of confidence. She can do this. On her exhale she reaches into her pocket and as she meets Lexa’s confused gaze, Clarke drops to one knee.

“Lexa kom Trikru, I swear fealty to you. I vow to treat your needs as my own and I vow to always be the rock you can stand as you carry the weight of our people. Lexa, you are my anchor, my soulmate, and my future. You have become the reason I breathe, and I promise my heart will always be yours in this lifetime and the next. Had I known this is what waited for me as I spent endless nights staring down onto Earth, I would have dropped many years ago. This bond we share is deeper than anything I have ever felt before; I guess this is what happens when a fallen star finds a home on the ground.” Carefully Clarke lifts her enclosed palm. Briefly pausing, Clarke uncurls her trembling fingers. “Lexa kom Trikru, my love, my _niron_ , will you marry me?”

* * *

**_LEXA_ **

Slightly confused, Lexa watches as Clarke lifts her hand. When Clarke’s fingers uncurl her shaky palm holds the most beautiful ring Lexa has ever seen. Feeling drawn to the small object Lexa carefully picks it up and delicately turns it in between her fingers. The metalwork is impeccable; a sign of true craftmanship and by the cleanliness of its design, Lexa can only guess who’s responsible for forging the piece. When she brings her ring closer to the flames, her eyes catch an inscription elegantly engraved on the inside. Translating the _Trig_ , Lexa silently reads the words.

“Clarke…” Lexa’s voice trails off when her tears begin to swell. Looking back to Clarke, she notices that Clarke is still on one knee. A wave of embarrassment washes over her as she realizes she does not know how to properly respond to this special Skaikru custom. Clarke had told her about the significance of a ring, but not once did Clarke provided instructions on how this ceremony works. And now Lexa can’t help but feel she is going to accidently offend her Skai princess.

As if to pick up on her distress, Clarke stands. Gently she takes the ring from Lexa, “Lexa, do you wish to become my _houman?_ ”

“More than ever Clarke.”

Smiling, Clarke slides the ring onto Lexa’s finger. Stretching out her hand to the light, Lexa admires how powerful the ring looks on her. She’s never worn a ring before, but now that the charcoal band rests on her finger she is sure she will never go a day without it. It’s perfect.

“I hope you like it Lexa. I guess I probably should have double checked with Anya. I mean I don’t even know if Commander’s wear rings.” Clarke nervously scratches the back of her neck, “I don’t want you to feel like you must wear it. I just wanted to share a Skaikru tradition with you.”

“No, it’s a perfect gift Clarke _._ But I must ask, why this finger?”

“Well I am not entirely certain on its trueness, but I had read somewhere that in the old world, the Ancient Romans believed that this finger has a vein that runs directly to one’s heart.”

“So, by me wearing this ring you will always be close to my heart?”

“I guess in a symbolic sense, yes.”

“Well if that is the case my Skai Princess, I promise it will never be taken off.”

Without hesitation Clarke moves to capture Lexa’s lips with a soft kiss. The action twists Lexa’s stomach into an array of butterflies as time itself stands still. A desire like never before stirs up in Lexa’s chest as she shyly presses her tongue against Clarke’s lips. Clarke eagerly responds to the request and for the first time Lexa truly gets a taste of Clarke. The more she lets herself explore; the more intoxicated Lexa becomes. Clarke is like a drug. Her essence is powerful, and its affect sends the past Commanders’ apprehensive opinions evaporating into the abyss. 

The two have shared a few kisses before, but never has it been as passionate as this. The taste of Clarke slowly begins to dissolve all the walls Lexa has built up over the years. And the fear of losing what Lexa loves the most is finally replaced with the desire for more.

As if to sense her change, Clarke guides Lexa down to the soft bed of pelts. When Clarke straddles Lexa, Lexa does not stop the tears from welling up when she meets Clarke’s eyes. Clarke, _her_ Clarke, desires her too. And best of all, she will be Lexa’s forever. If this is what weakness is, she wants to be weak for eternity.

A sudden urge stirs in Lexa’s stomach. Lexa wants, no needs, to show Clarke just how special she is. Taking control, Lexa gently guides Clarke onto her back and the thick bear pelts provide the perfect comfort. Before moving further she looks to Clarke for permission. Lexa wants to make sure this is what her _niron_ wants because once Lexa gets lost in Clarke’s ecstasy, she knows it will be impossible to stop.

Clarke nods in reassurance meeting Lexa lips. As if trying not to spook Clarke, Lexa slowly maneuvers herself on top. Clarke responds to the new position with soft, rhythmic grinds and Lexa cannot help her eyes from fluttering from the sensation the friction is causing. 

Nervously Lexa plays at the hem of Clarke’s shirt before discarding the barrier. With shaky hands she unravels the bindings; the final barrier between her and Clarke. Lexa holds her breath. She is sure Clarke can hear the thundering clap of her heart but can’t help it. This is a moment Lexa has been dreaming of ever since she laid eyes on Clarke.

A soft gasp escapes Lexa’s lips. Clarke is flawless, paralyzingly beautiful. And Lexa can’t seem to bring herself to do anything but stare at the generously sized chest beneath her.

“Clarke…You are so beautiful my love _._ I am almost scared to touch you in the fear that I will awake from a dream.”

Clarke doesn’t respond. Instead she grabs Lexa's hand, guiding Lexa herself. When Lexa feels the soft flesh, she can’t stop the small whimper from escaping her lips. The skin is velvety soft, and as if on instinct, Lexa begins to knead the large mound. The rose-coloured bud peaks from the night’s cool air, hardening further when Lexa softly rolls the tip between her fingers.

The arching of Clarke’s back sends Lexa into overdrive. Peppering a trail of soft kisses down Clarke’s neck, Clarke continues to twist in tormented pleasure beneath her. Tenderly Lexa moves her lips over the rose-coloured peak. Softly sucking, tracing teasing circles around its outline.

Clarke’s soft moan rings in Lexa’s ears, driving a confidence she forgot existed. Lexa’s desire for her princess, _all_ her princess, amplifies. With impatience Lexa swiftly removes her own pants, and like Clarke is in nothing but underwear. Lexa’s fingers fumble along the hem of her shirt. Quickly discarding it she reaches for her bindings but stops when a seed of doubt grows in her mind. Lexa’s chest is no where near as voluminous as Clarke’s. A sudden pull of insecurity makes her embarrassed that she cannot offer Clarke the same gift in return.

As if to sense Lexa’s uncertainty, Clarke reaches up and unties the bindings herself. The cool air hits Lexa’s exposed chest. It is a harsh reminder that she cannot hide her raw vulnerability behind the Commander’s façade anymore.

“You my love are equally as beautiful.” Clarke’s teasing touch sends an array of goosebumps down Lexa’s tanned skin as Clarke guides their bodies back together again. The skin to skin contact stirs a certain ecstasy in Lexa, dissolving the seed of self doubt she felt only moments ago.

Lexa runs her fingers through Clarke’s golden hair. The intoxicating smell of vanilla cinnamon brings Lexa back to the first time she and Clarke kissed. It was in that war tent Clarke’s scent was engrained in Lexa’s mind forever. And now, that same vanilla cinnamon churns butterflies in the pit of her stomach. 

Returning her attention back to her princess, Lexa uses her freehand to tease slow circles along Clarke’s toned stomach. Soft, throaty whimpers drive Lexa’s playful movements. When Clarke seems close to finding her first wave of pleasure Lexa removes the last barrier between her and Clarke. From the way nails dig into her skin, Lexa knows this is exactly what Clarke has been pleading for.

As if mapping out the warmth, Lexa’s fingers eagerly explore a part of Clarke she’s never touched before. Nails dig deeper into Lexa’s back as Clarke’s toes curl in response to the touch. Clarke’s throaty moan is addicting, almost druglike that builds a desire in Lexa to pleasure Clarke again. With a gentleness Lexa pushes her fingers into Clarke.

The thrusts start off slow, almost rhythmic like, causing Clarke’s hips to grind into the pressure. As desire builds, Clarke increases the intensity of her hip’s movements. Under the candlelight flame, Lexa notices the glimmer of sweat on Clarke's skin. Responding to Clarke’s body, Lexa quickens her pace.

“Lexa,” Clarke’s whisper tickles the hair around Lexa’s ear. Nibbles placed on Lexa’s ear motivates Lexa’s steady movements until Clarke’s inner walls snap in a pleasurable release.

“Oh my god,” moans Clarke as she rides out the second wave of euphoria and Lexa cannot feel more satisfaction. Bringing Clarke back down to earth, Lexa places a passionate kiss onto Clarke’s lips.

“I love you so much Clarke,” said Lexa as she runs her fingers back through Clarke’s soft hair. 

A cool breeze breaks up the moment when it causes Clarke to shiver. Pulling up the furs, Lexa brings Clarke into a secure embrace. The moon is especially bright tonight and Lexa cannot help but stare at Clarke’s perfectly illuminated silhouette. Her fallen star, now and forever.

“Clarke?”

“mhmmm.”

“Tell me more about the sky.”

“The sky?”

“Yes, I want to know about the stars. They are just so beautiful.” Lexa looks in awe at the specks of light glowing in the sky. “What are they made of?”

“Well I guess the simplest explanation would be that a star is a glowing ball of gas.” 

“I see.” Lexa responds squinting her eyes in efforts to see a dimly lit star. “And why are some brighter than others?”

“Because those stars are closer to us.” Clark points towards the sky, “do you see that star over there?”

Lexa follows Clarke’s direction to a bright star in the distance, “that bright one?”

“Yes. That is a star called Sirius. It’s the brightest star in the sky. It is actually part of the Canis Major constellation.”

“Constellations?” Lexa struggles to repeat the strange word.

“Yes constellation. It’s like a collection of stars that form a picture.”

“And that bright star, Sirius, is part of this Canis Major grouping?”

“Yes. Canis Major also means big dog.”

Again Lexa strains her eyes on the sky. She does not see this so-called big dog but doesn’t want her ignorance to take away from Clarke’s teaching, “Is this your favourite constel… constell-”

“Constellation,” corrects Clarke making a poor attempt to supress her giggle. “Hmm well there are many, but I think my favourite would have to be Orion the Hunter. Actually…” Clarke points again to the sky, “Canis major is one of Orion’s hunting dogs. If you find Sirius again you can easily see Orion’s belt.”

“Is Orion a talented hunter?”

“Yes, according to mythology. In fact…” Clarke continues, passionately explaining the history of the sky, but Lexa cannot hear any words. Instead Lexa finds herself mapping Clarke’s elegant facial features attempting to imprint everything about this memory into her mind forever.

“Clarke I can’t wait longer!” said Lexa unintentionally blurting out during Clarke’s astronomy lesson.

“Lexa?” Clarke’s brows furrow with confusion. Obviously Lexa’s interjection had no relevance to Clarke’s teachings. “I don’t think I understand?”

“I can’t wait for the world to know who I belong to.”

“And they will,” said Clarke smirking slightly at Lexa’s outburst. “In over a week all the clans will have left polis and the ground will know that Alexandra, the great Commander is my wife.”

“No!”

“No? Am I not to be your _houman_?”

“Er… I mean yes. Yes, you will Clarke, but I will not wait that long.”

“I see you are rushing to seal your fate.” Clarke laughs, planting a soft kiss on Lexa’s forehead. “So what day are you planning on making me yours forever?”

“The very moment the tattoo artist makes his return to Polis.”


	16. The Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Coalition's biggest secret is set to take place under the stars. And Lexa vows to do everything she can to keep it concealed from the other clans until Clarke's safety can be assured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it is not Wednesday. But I will be away writing exams all week, so I thought I should get these postings out of the way. Also, for those who have been checking out the insta page @clexa_by_lms the grid is getting fuller! Meaning we are just chapters way from the present time. I can't wait to get this story moving. Have a great week and as always, thanks for reading. See you Sunday - LMS

**_CLARKE_ **

“Clarke are you even listening to me? I said have you talked to your mom yet?” said Raven snapping her fingers in Clarke's face. “We are leaving in like three days.”

Clarke pulls herself out from her daydream. Truthfully her thoughts were lost in the moment she shared with Lexa a few days ago. It was a night where she and Lexa became one heartbeat and Clarke can’t stop thinking how Lexa will officially be her wife.

Initially Lexa wanted to wait to finalize the bond until after all the clans left, but after the night on the Commander’s tower Lexa decided she could not wait any longer. So tonight, when the sun is at its lowest peak, the bonding ceremony will take place in the presence of the tattoo artist and a witness.

Clarke is happy with the short notice, but at the same time it has made her anxious. The small window means Clarke has less time to decide on Lexa's tattoo design. Another reason for her distraction today. But after spending all-night thinking, Clarke feels like she has finally picked the image. Orion the hunter. 

The design is fitting in many ways. Not only does mythology say Orion was a mighty hunter, but the constellation has always been Clarke’s favourite. The stars also represent the sky; a place Clarke once called home and now Clarke’s home will be with Lexa forever. Clarke smiles to herself. Everything is coming together perfectly. 

“Clarke, if you make me ask one more time, I will show you the side of Raven everyone fears.”

“Right ugh, yes?”

“Do you even know what I asked?”

“Of course!” Clarke tries to think of some sort of response but dips her head in shame. “Okay fine, you caught me. I wasn’t listening.”

“I said, have you spoken to your mom?”

“Yes, I did. We _actuall_ y talked last night.”

“And?”

“And it went fine. Much better than I had expected. I guess since our slightly hostile interaction at the branding ceremony we both had some time to think. She may have come across harshly, but in retrospect she was just worried about me.”

“Okay thank god. The last month and a half Abby was pretty scary to be around. I'm so happy things will be returning to normal. I mean she too must be excited to have you back in Arkadia?”

“Raven.” Clarke feels her face fall, “I wanted to tell you sooner, but things are happening so fast. I’m not coming back to Arkadia.”

“Wait what?” The same hurt that Clarke had seen on Raven's face a few days ago reappears. “I don’t understand. We are your people Clarke; you are like my sister! How will I be able to handle O without you?”

“I’m sorry Raven.”

“Does this have to do with your _secret_ fiancé?” Raven’s words slightly hiss through her clenched teeth. “Did you tell your mom that too? Or did you conveniently leave that detail out as well?”

“Yes it does. And no, I didn’t. I may have left that minor detail out.”

“She is going to kill you, you know.”

Clarke laughs in attempt to clear the stale air. There’s a good chance Raven is not wrong.

“I have grown so much since we have landed. But for some reason, she still treats me like a sheltered child.”

“Well maybe Momma Griffin would treat you differently if you were completely honest with her. You know, instead of being all secretive. Like you could start with telling her about your life’s trauma.”

“Fine. I’ll start sharing a little more. So speaking of secrets, can you keep one?”

“Is there a brace on my leg?”

Clarke rolls her eyes not entirely sure what Raven was meaning, “I’m being serious. Can you keep a secret?”

“Yes."

“Well,” Clarke inhales a nervous breath, “my secret fiancé and I are getting married tonight.”

“Clarke?! Are you serious Griffin?” Raven lightly hits Clarke upside the head. “I still don’t know who this person is and you're officially insane.”

“I will admit it's happening almost ridiculously fast, but when you know you know. I promise in a few days when all the clans leave my reasons for keeping everything so secret will become clear.”

“Oh my god, you’re pregnant aren’t you! This is a shotgun wedding isn’t it? Momma Griffin is going to kill you.”

“Raven you’re being dramatic. If I were pregnant, I would tell you.”

“Okay fine I’ll wait. But for the love of god Griff, have you at least had a chance to test it before you buy it?” Instantly the tips of Clarke’s ears warm. “Well I guess that answers that question. Man, I can’t believe our princess is going to be a little wifey.”

* * *

As the sun drops to its lowest point, Clarke heads to the top of the Commander’s tower. Lexa had already briefed her this morning about the logistics of the ceremony, but for some reason Clarke is still nervous.

Biting her lip, Clarke inhales as she steps onto the roof. It appears she is the last one to arrive. Which is not much of a surprise as the Skaikru have somehow managed to earn a reputation for tardiness.

Clarke takes in the setting. The balcony itself looks very similar to the way she had prepared it a few nights ago. The way the candles are placed offer a feeling of romance. The only differences are the three extra bodies and triple the number of torches. Which is probably a good thing since the flames will be needed to provide enough lighting her for first tattoo.

“My _niron_ come have a seat here,” said Lexa placing a quick kiss on Clarke’s forehead. “Clarke this Tonji. Tonji will be performing your tattoo.”

“And you will be sitting near?” said Clarke trying to control the slight shake in her voice. She's trying to act tough, but it would be a lie to say she wasn't scared. 

“Of course. I will be right across from you while Felix tends to my own tattoo.” Lexa finds her seat across from Clarke as the artists begin organizing their collection of tools. “Oh, and Anya? Thank you for acting as our witness. Tonight would not be official without your presence.”

“Of course Heda.” Turning towards Clarke, Anya half-hardheartedly punches her shoulder. “I should remind you Clarke that even though you are about to become the most important and over protected person in this Coalition, it would be wise to remember I will not go any easier on you during our training. You may be the mighty Commander’s wife, but you will always be my little _seken_.”

A warm smile is shared between the teacher and the student. Regardless of how ruthless Anya’s methods are, Clarke has become quite found of Anya. Clarke might even go as far to consider Anya a trusted friend.

“And I would expect nothing less from a mentor like you Anya,” said Lexa as she passes Clarke a folded piece of paper. **“** Here Clarke. This is the tattoo I have chosen for you.”

Carefully Clarke unfolds the paper. Etched into the parchment is an exact replica of the cogwheel Lexa herself wears. The Commander’s symbol.

“I have chosen this for you because those who possess this symbol are known to be under my personal protection. Anyone who sees this mark shall treat you in the exact manner as they would treat me. Knowing this, will bring me great peace.”

Clarke smiles taking in the design once again. It is simple, but the meaning behind is heartwarming. Clarke looks back to Lexa, who seems to be eagerly awaiting her design. Taking the silence as the cue, Clarke hands over her drawing. 

“A few nights ago I asked you to be my chosen. It will be a night I will cherish forever. And I will always remember how I helped you find your first constellation, Orion the hunter. So this is why I picked this as your tattoo. The stars were my home once, but now my home is with you.”

Lexa smiles down at the constellation before her. With her finger she traces Orion’s Belt. The doting look tells Clarke Lexa is pleased with the choice. Bringing Clarke much relief.

“Well then I think the perfect spot for such a significant image is right here.” Softly, Lexa pats her chest just above the heart. “And you Clarke? Where would you like to take my symbol?”

“I think I would like it here,” said Clarke pointing to the top flesh of her ring finger. “Not only do I want to be reminded that you are mine, but I want to the world to see how much you mean to me too.”

“It is settled then. Tonji, Felix shall we begin?”

Tonji and Felix nod as they grab their respective images. Once back to the stations they carefully inspect the designs until they are satisfied. Before Clarke has time to reconsider, black dye is being dipped onto a needle and Tonji begins his work.

Clarke is by no means a tattoo expert, but Tonji appears to be exceptionally skilled. His movements are precise and consistent, but quick enough she barely feels the prick of the needle piercing into her skin.

Clarke looks over to Lexa who is in nothing more than cotton pants and chest bindings – loosened just slightly to give Felix enough access to her upper breast. Her eyes are closed, and both hands are folded up behind her head. From her relaxed position it is obvious that she is no stranger to such activities.

“Lexa?”

“mhmmm?” Her eyes remain closed, but Clarke can tell she has her full attention.

“How will we tell the other clans? Like I guess what is going to happen now?”

“Talia has been informed that as soon as the clan's last wagon leaves our gates her staff will move all your possessions to my side of the tower. Since my room is now your room. Then riders will be sent out shortly after to inform our people of your new status.”

“My status?”

“Yes. Being my wife means you will also have authority over all clans. Only I will be able to overturn your command. It is also a Trikru tradition for a freshly bonded pair to spend time alone on a hunt together. But Anya has persuaded me that it would be wise to prolong this until Polis has long ceased being a host.”

“Ahem!” Anya’s throat clears.

Looking to her General Lexa playfully rolls her eyes.

“Anya has also insisted that it would be foolish for us to be in the bush alone. Normally I would disagree with my General since a Commander does not need to be babysat. But I have realized that Anya has a point and I will not subject my _houman_ to an avoidable danger. I promise Clarke we will share this tradition. But unfortunately, we will not be able to experience it like the other grounders do. I hope this is okay with you.”

“Of course Lexa. It probably would be best if Nyko joins us as well. Seeing how my mentor has yet to help me master the bow. I would hate to accidentally impale my new wife with a stray arrow.”

Clarke sticks her tongue out at Anya, but quickly retreats it when the taunt is answered with a challenging glare. Anya may be on her best behaviour tonight, but like she promised, she won’t go easy on her in tomorrow’s session. If Clarke wants to make it out in one piece, she should probably mind her place.

“Is there any Skaikru traditions I should be aware of Clarke? What do your people do when they get… marred… mari… marred?”

Clarke lets out a small chuckle, “I think you mean married. And we do something called a honeymoon. It is an old-world concept where two people go and relax with one another after all the festivities. I mean up in the Ark we couldn’t necessarily leave, but to continue the tradition there was a section of the Ark reserved for newlyweds. So, in a sense this hunting trip can be like our honeymoon. But I do ask for one thing?”

“Yes? _”_

“I would like to spend the rest of tonight and the entire morning with you before your duties. That is without a single interruption until your presence is requested. Do we have a deal?”

Lexa smiles, “I think such a request can be arranged.”

“Heda.”

“Yes, Felix?”

“Both tattoos are finished, we shall leave so you and Wanheda can observe them in peace. It has been an honor to serve you. Should you find any irritation Nyko has been instructed to gather the proper herbs. Once again you have honoured my apprentice and I. Heda, Wanheda my best wishes for your eternity together.”

Clarke holds her left hand up to inspect her fresh ink. The curves and lines of the cogwheel are done with absolute precision; even though Tonji is just an apprentice, his skill is exceptional.

“I love it Lexa. Are you happy with yours?”

Anya holds up an old tarnished mirror. The reflection has been dulled over the years, but it suffices well enough for Lexa to see the stars in her constellation.

“Yes my _houmon_. It is more beautiful than I could have imagined.”

“Wait _houmon?”_ questions Clarke. _“_ So, this is it? The ceremony is complete and just like that we are bonded?”

“Yes Clarke, it's finished. We have received our markings and Anya has served as witness. You are now mine for life.”

“Well if that’s the case, it’s time for my wife to hold up her end of the deal. Meaning no interruptions start now.”

“As you wish my fallen star. _”_


	17. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like history on repeat, it only takes a split second for the things most treasured to turn into nothing but a distant memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter will finally tell us how Clarke finds herself in Azegda. But I think this chapter might leave you with some questions, so Sunday's two post will wrap up all the loose ends in the past timeline. Meaning on Wednesday we hit the ground running in the present and will finally meet Klark. 
> 
> Thanks for reading - LMS

**46 days since the fall of the mountain**

**_LEXA_ **

The rising sun casts it light against the far wall of her room. Lexa can tell by its position her meeting will be starting soon, which means Lexa does not have much longer to protectively hold her new _houman._ At that thought a frown meets Lexa’s lips. If she had the choice, she would never ever leave the warmth of these furs. But unfortunately, the Commander cannot escape her duties.

Lexa places a soft kiss on the top of Clarke’s head. As usual the golden locks are soft to the touch and possess the fragrance of vanilla cinnamon. Before placing another kiss, Lexa pauses to inhale once more. She read once that the sense of smell is closely linked to the mind, and if that is true, she wishes to cement this fragrance into her memory forever.

“Hmmm how long have you been awake?” said Clarke stirring slightly in her arms. 

“Long enough to memorize every detail of your beautiful face.”

“I should have known the Commander would not sleep in the day after her wedding. Even our evening activities was not enough to wear you out. I am impressed with my wife’s stamina, maybe she will have enough energy to perform again tonight?”

“If that is what you desire.” Lexa gently squeezes Clarke as she plants another kiss. But instead of Clarke's hairline, Lexa meets soft lips.

“It is. Unless Titus steals you away from me. If that happens, at least I know you won’t forget what I look like. I mean since you have spent all morning spying on me.”

“I could never forget you Clarke. You are too beautiful to ever escape my memory.”

“Well that’s good to know. But you shouldn’t worry about remembering what I look like; if I recall we have a whole lifetime promised together.”

“A lifetime is never promised Clarke. Death is notorious for making its claim at the most unsuspecting moments. We do not know what tomorrow brings and life as we know it today may be entirely different tomorrow.”

“And even after everything you still manage to sneak in a talk about your death. How about instead of using that tongue to speak such a morbid lesson, you put it to a more pleasurable use?”

_“Knock-knock.”_

Lexa quickly pulls the furs over Clarke’s bare chest. She has ordered no one to enter but does not want to subject Clarke to potential embarrassment should a _branwada_ forget their orders.

“What is it?”

A small voice replies behind the large wooden door, “Heda? I hope I have not disturbed you, but as you have requested the remaining clan leaders have started to assemble in your war room. Should I send word that you will be delayed?”

“No. I will be on time.”

“Very well. Sorry again for disturbing you.”

A small pout forms on the Clarke’s lips. They both knew this moment wouldn’t last forever, but even Lexa didn’t think she would be called to her duties so soon.

“I promise as soon as the meeting is done my attention will be all yours again. Besides, you should get going as well. I would hate to see you late for Anya’s lessons. She knows to respect you outside the sparring ring, but inside you are at her mercy. And we both know how well she tolerates ill punctuality.”

“Oh no the horror! How will I ever survive the wrath of Anya?”

Lexa watches as Clarke straps her dual blades into place. She finds herself mentally taking notes on the way Clarke moves; intently observing her little quirks and small habits. This is the second time this morning Lexa feels the need to savour everything about her _houmon._ These urges slightly unsettle her, but perhaps these feelings are stemming from overprotectiveness of her newly bonded.

“Okay I think I have everything. Remember, as soon as you're done you're mine. Got it?” said Clarke as she leans in for a soft kiss on Lexa’s cheek.

“Of course, a good Commander never breaks a promise. But I think I deserve one more kiss.”

With a smile Clarke moves in and captures her lips. As always, the kiss twists Lexa's stomach into an array of butterflies. 

“I love you Lexa,” said Clarke making her way towards the large doors with great haste. If she delays any longer, she will for sure be late.

“Clarke?” A sudden urge sparks in Lexa's chest. 

Clarke rotates on her heels to face Lexa, “Yes?”

“Nothing _._ I just wanted the chance to look at your beauty one last time.”

* * *

**_CLARKE_ **

Quickly Clarke trots down the winding stairs and out towards Lexa’s personal sparring ring. Her morning with Lexa was exactly what she needed, but it has made her way behind schedule. So to save time she has decided to not let Lyra know she is heading out. Lyra is smart. It won’t take her long to realize Clarke has left without her.

Clarke hurries her pace once she reaches the cobblestone path. But suddenly, she stops. Looking both ways she makes a spur of the moment decision and turns left instead of right. Her regular route is slightly longer, so taking a shortcut through the back alley could save her precious time. The ally is darker than Clarke remembers. But she thinks nothing more of it when the sound of her strides echo in the alley’s shadows. Her sole focus is getting to Anya's lesson. 

Without warning Clarke slams into a concrete wall. A sharp pain shoots up her left ankle when the cloaked attacker pulls her to the ground. Clarke scolds herself for letting her defenses slip. She was so focused on getting to Anya on time she did not hear the footsteps hitting the path behind her. 

Clarke struggles to get free, but the cloaked figure is fast and too strong. The air rushes out of her lungs when a large body weighs on top of her, crushing all attempts to break free. She goes to cry for help, but her attacker is prepared. Quickly she’s gagged before any sound can escape her lips.

Clarke screams. But the gag muffles her cries when the attacker forces her hands behind her back. The rope’s rough fibres painfully burn into her wrists as her hands are tied securely in place.

Somehow Clarke manages to twist and kick her attacker in the gut, but her efforts are fruitless as another coarse rope tightens around her ankles. Clarke makes one more attempt to break free, but instantly she feels discouraged when she fully comprehends her compromised position. She is trapped and unless there is some sort of miracle there's no escape. 

_"Lexa!"_ The thought of her love causes a sharp pain to stab through her heart. The pain intensifies as she thinks how Lexa will be alone tonight only to be haunted by her worst fear. Clarke screams into the gag cursing the cruelty of the spirits. How dare they make Lexa relive a painful past. Clarke screams again as tears fall freely down her cheeks. This will destroy her wife; whatever happens she must fight to make it back, not for her own sake but for Lexa’s.

Clark is pulled out of her thoughts when the large figure pulls her upright, “Wanheda, for us to leave unnoticed you’re going to need to be quite.”

Clarke comes faces to face with the cloaked man. His cold, grey eyes turn her blood into ice. Had she not been gagged a loud gasp would have left her lips.

“ _General_ _Beorn? How on earth?! Azgeda left a long time ago?!”_ thought Clarke. Before she can comprehend the situation any further the cobblestone alley quickly fades to black.

* * *

**_ANYA_ **

Anya takes another practice swing with her sword. Its sharp steel slices with a deadly swoosh through the air. After a few more swings, sweat pools into her dark hairline and Anya decides it best to stop messing around. Especially since she needs to preserve her energy for Clarke’s training.

After a while Clarke’s absence begins to make Anya feel slightly anxious. To distract her from the worried thoughts, she paces quick circles around the ring. At first, she was not concerned with Clarke’s lateness. Especially since this has happened a time or two before, but as time continues to pass Anya cannot help but worry. Clarke has been late, but never like this. In fact, had Clarke arrived on time the lesson would be almost over by now. Soon the sound of steps along the pathway eases Anya’s mind. Rolling her eyes, she doesn’t even bother to face her _seken_ before scolding her.

“Do you realize how late you are? You better have a good excuse Clarke. And just so you know, your tittle of Heda’s _houman_ will not save you from your tardiness.”

“Clarke isn’t here?”

The youthful voice immediately stills Anya. Turning around Anya finds a wide-eyed Lyra standing just a few feet from her.

“What do you mean she is not here?” said Anya. Chest tightening as she begins to put together the scene before her.

“I, she… well.”

“For god's sake Lyra. Speak now!”

“I… well I went to find Clarke in her quarters this morning, but when she was not there I figured she was with the Commander. But when I met Adrian he mentioned that the Commander was already down in her meeting. I asked him where Clarke was and he told me that Clarke had already left to come here. But it turns out she is not here either!” A gasp leaves Lyra’s lips as she comprehends the weight of her spoken words. “Anya where is Clarke?”

Anya wants to move, to spring into action, but she is paralyzed. Because this isn’t happening, this cannot happen. Lexa will not survive this, not twice.

“Anya where is Clarke?” Lyra is met by nothing but a paralyzed general. “Where is our Skai princess General? Where is Clarke?”

Before Anya can answer Lyra, Anya finds her legs sprinting towards the Commander’s tower. Wherever, or rather whoever has taken Clarke could already be out of the city. The weight of this conversation sits heavy on Anya’s heart. She is dreading it but knows she cannot prolong it. If Clarke is to be found safe, they all need to act fast before its too late.

* * *

**_LEXA_ **

“Yes, I have no doubts that the Skaikru will be more than happy to assist you with restoring this old-world technology that you have found.” With slight boredom, Lexa plays with the hem of her shirt. “The Skai people have many skilled members who will be able to provide you guidance; isn’t that right Marcus Kane?”

“Absolutely Heda. We will be more than willing to house those who would like to learn these skills. Anyone would be lucky to learn from Raven; she is our most promising mechanic.”

“Very well then, I will leave it up to you and the other clans to make such arrangements. Are there any more matters that require my attention?”

“Actually Heda, I was wondering if we could diss-”

_“BANG!”_

The sound of the heavy wooden door slamming open echoes throughout the war room. The noise is startling enough that even Lexa finds herself jumping from the intrusion. Lexa’s eyes crease with grave concern when she sees Anya quickly making her way towards her throne. Whatever has caused Anya to act in such an uncontrolled way must be of upmost priority as Anya would never make such a scene if the cause were unwarranted. 

Lexa can feel her worry escalating, but quickly collects her composer before addressing the remaining clans. Whatever this is, she is the Commander first and must always be perceived as strong. Just to be sure her voice won’t crack; Lexa clears her throat, “Our time is now finished. Leave us!” 

When the doors close, Indra, Anya, and Lexa know they have privacy. Lexa watches as Anya’s face twists with agony as she falls on her knees before Lexa. Slightly surprised, Lexa looks to Indra for support, but Indra too is equally perplexed.

“Anya what is the meaning of this? What has happened,” questions Indra.

“Lexa I am so sorry!” Anya does not even attempt to hide the fear in her voice, “I believe she’s missing.”

Lexa pales. From the way Anya is behaving Lexa knows she doesn’t have to ask who _she is._ A slight tremble forms in Lexa’s bottom lip. She tries to stop it but realizes there is no use. The tremble soon becomes uncontrollable as unwanted tears begin to well up.

“Anya, where is Clarke?” Lexa’s voice cracks at the mention of her lover’s name. This cannot be happening, not again, not ever. Lexa balls her hands so tight her knuckles feel like they are going to pop through her skin. Clenching her jaw, she tries one last attempt to deter the slip of tears. But her efforts are proven fruitless as the mask of the Commander is pulled away by the warm tears streaking down her cheeks. “Where is Clarke?”

“She did not arrive on time for her lesson. I thought she was late, but as time went on, I began to fear for the worst. When Lyra came running to the arena, she thought Clarke was with me. Lyra has just talked with Clarke’s other guards waiting in the shadows of her regular route. None of them saw her, so it appears Clarke did not take her usual path to the ring. It seems Adrian is the last to have seen Clarke leaving your quarters. The walk to your personal sparring ring is only across the courtyard! Lexa, I fear someone has taken her!”

Lexa’s knees begin to weaken. Losing her balance, she falls back onto the seat of her throne. She knows they need to act fast. To lock down the city and send out a search party. This has become a race against time. Lexa tries to speak, but nothing but the sound of air hisses past her lips.

“Guards!” Indra breaks the silence. At the loud bark three guards quickly emerge into the hall. “Wanheda is missing and we must act quickly should we find her. You run as fast as you can to Dorji’s post. Have him shut down all passages through the city; no one is allowed in or out until I or the Commander say otherwise. And you…” Indra points her spear to the second guard, “are to go to the library and retrieve the maps of Polis. Bring them to Dorji so the Polis guard can search every corner, tunnel, and house until we are certain Wanheda is not in the city.

And you! Gather Polis’ fastest riders and send them to the surrounding Trikru Villages. Be sure at least one of them is sent to Arkadia to inform Lincoln. His skills are of too much value to not be used. We need to start searching the forest as soon as possible before Wanheda is lost in the borders of another clan. Have I made myself clear?” All three dip in understanding. “Good! Now go, Wanheda’s life depends on it!”

Indra marches over to Anya. Placing two hands on Anya’s cotton shirt Indra pulls Anya to her feet.

“Anya, collect yourself General! We have yet to confirm what has happened to the Skai princess. Until we learn the truth, we must remain strong. I will take my warriors and lead a ground search North. You do the same but travel South. But before you leave take the Commander to her quarters and have Talia call for Nyko.”

“No!” Lexa snaps back to reality. Her booming voice catches both Generals off guard. “I will not sit in my tower and wait for Clarke to be returned to me. I am the Commander. If there is trouble in my Coalition, I will be at the helm trying to solve it. Anya, send word to have my stallion readied, I will leave with you at once!”

Wiping away the evidence of her fallen tears, Lexa quickly makes her way out of the war room. Slowly but surely she can feel every wall Clarke has melted through begin to be build themselves back up again. Lexa has been through this before. To survive she will need to start detaching herself from her feelings especially if things turn for the worst. It’s cruel to Clarke’s memory, but Lexa knows if she can’t somehow numb her feelings, she probably won’t survive this. Not this time, not her Clarke.

* * *

**_LINCOLN_ **

It is no secret that Lincoln is arguably the best Trikru tracker, but there are plenty of others who possess exceptional tracking skills too. Which is why when the riders from Polis came, Lincoln was shocked Indra of all people would call for his skills in the midst of his strict banishment. But of course, he did not hesitate to gather his things. His love may be with Octavia but his allegiance to serve will always reside with the Commander.

At first he thought he was summoned because it was Wanheda who was missing. But when he saw the incredible size and just _who_ was all involved in the search for Clarke, Lincoln realized something else was going on. No one explicitly said, but Lincoln is no fool. The Commander would never amass such a search party, nor attend the search herself, unless the person missing was of great importance to the Commander. Which is why Lincoln has never scoured a forest floor with such intensity.

For the first few hours he found no trace of any evidence. Whoever has taken Clarke is of great skill too as all tracks have been carefully covered. But as luck would have it, the captor has made one vital mistake. Not too long ago, Lincoln noticed the imprint of a wagon track sunken deep into the mud. Had the captor weaved around the wet earth, Lincoln may have never noticed the trail. But since finding this error, Lincoln is confidant these horse’s imprints are leading him to closer to Wanheda.

Lincoln quickens his pace. The sun is already slipping behind the horizon and as the forest floor becomes darker, the chances of finding Clarke lessens. If the captor is as smart as Lincoln thinks them to be, there is no doubt Clarke is being taken out of Trikru territory. The Commander may have power over the Coalition, but many leaders wouldn’t look to fondly if a hoard of Trikru warriors search their lands. 

Suddenly Lincoln pauses as his senses heighten. Taking in another inhale, Lincoln’s face pales at the familiar scent of burning flesh. Without a second to spare Lincoln sprints towards the smell of this new trail. Running at such high speeds he nearly trips on a root jutting out from the forest floor, but he doesn’t slow his strides. If his suspicions are correct, he needs to get to the source quickly, even though deep down he knows he is probably too late.

Once in the clearing Lincoln halts. The now darkened sky illuminates the roar of flames on top of a small hill. Wiping the sweat away from his forehead, Lincoln sprints again towards the blaze. As he strides closer to the small pyre, he cannot help but cover is face from the overpowering stench.

“Clarke?!” Lincoln knows his call is useless. From the amount of ash collecting around the bottom of the pyre it is evident the wood has been burning for some time now. Meaning there is no doubt the body amongst the flames has died long ago. Frantically he begins throwing dirt on top to stop the flames. It is irrational as the girl is long gone. But if Clarke is as important to the Commander as he thinks she is, Lincoln wants to make sure the Commander will have the chance to see whatever is left of her one last time.

His efforts to snuff the flames are useless. But when he paces around to the other side of the fire, he notices how Clarke’s left arm conveniently hangs off the pier. Without hesitation he digs into his bag and removes a cloth. With haste he wraps it around his own hand and grabbing onto the limb he pulls the body free from the fire.

With a thud the burnt corpse hits the ground. Throwing dirt, Lincoln suffocates the remaining flames and as if putting out a candle’s fire a swirl of smoke lifts into the wind. Turning the corpse onto its back, Lincoln begins to inspect the body for any clues of its identity. His intuition tells him this is Wanheda, but still feels a slight glimmer of hope that this could be a random murder. As his hands fall upon the two distinct blades Clarke was said to be wearing. His heart sinks deep into his chest.

“Oh Clarke.” With tears Lincoln reaches for the unburnt hand. Skin that was once smooth is now nothing but a leather like texture – evidence of severe dehydration from the flame’s heat. “I’m so sorry the ground was cruel to you. Your fight may be over, but I pray to the Old Warrior we will meet again in the next life.”

Lincoln rubs his thumb over the top of Clarke’s half burnt hand. The light from the roaring flames is bright enough for a black spot on Clarke’s finger to catch his attention. Spitting on the cloth, Lincoln wipes away the dirt and ash to further inspect what is imprinted on the slightly shriveled hand.

Holding it towards the light, Lincoln gasps. With a soft thump the hand falls into the dirt as Lincoln retreats away from the body in horror. He had been right; the Commander wasn’t looking for just _anybody_ and for the first time in his life he cannot help but feel that he has failed his Commander.

* * *

**_ANYA_ **

The sound of leaves crumpling underneath hooves fills the unnerving silence between the search party. They have been riding for longer than Anya likes and as each minute passes Anya can feel hope slip away.

Out of the corner of her eye Anya has been watching Lexa, and she too, is affected by every passing minute. As the time passes Anya watches the real Lexa, the one that so few know, slip further away behind a mask so detached, so void of emotion that even Anya herself finds a chill from the hollowed stare. Anya knows this is how Lexa copes, she had seen it once when Costia was taken. If Clarke is stolen too Anya fears the real Lexa will be lost forever.

“We will find her Lexa. I promise.”

“It is unwise to promise such things Anya. Just as easily as promises can be made, they can be broken. If I remember I was once promised Clarke would be protected at all costs, but somehow here we are.”

The words cut deep, churning guilt in the pit of Anya’s stomach. Anya does not need Lexa to remind her of the conversation they had many weeks ago. It was her that had persuaded Lexa to let the Skai Princess in. She promised Lexa Clarke would not suffer the same fate as Costia. Yet like a déjà vu everything is starting to feel eerily familiar.

“Heda! Heda!” The shouts from approaching riders halts their progress.

“What news?”

“I have received word from a scout in General Indra’s party. Evidence has been found!”

“Is it Wanheda? Is she alive?” Anya asks so Lexa doesn’t have to.

“I was told nothing other than Indra said to come quickly. It is about a forty-minute ride. but if we travel fast, we can make it there in thirty.” 

Before Anya can get anymore information, Lexa spins her horse and gallops at high speeds towards Indra’s position. After Anya shouts orders to the warriors in her party, she too spins around and heads after the Commander. Shaking her head slightly; Anya reprimands herself. She knew she should have taken a faster horse.

* * *

In the distance Anya can see one of Indra’s war tents set up in the horizon. She taps her heels into her horse pushing him to a faster pace. Once she is close enough, she dismounts. Lexa too dismounts quickly, without even bothering to hand off her horse.

Walking up to the tent, all the warriors around dip their head in respect. Anya inhales nervously when she notices that not one warrior is willing to meet the Commander’s furious gaze. Looking up towards the tent’s entrance, Anya sees Indra standing rigid. Meeting Indra’s stare, Anya’s heart sinks. Indra is not one to show emotion, but Anya has known the other General long enough to recognize the hidden grief simmering behind her dark brown eyes. Biting her lip, Anya prepares herself. 

“What have you found of Wanheda Indra,” growls Lexa.

“Heda….” Indra presses her lips together. “I fear this is not the news we had hoped for.” Lexa waits no longer before impatiently moving towards the tent’s entrance. Ever so slightly Indra grabs Lexa’s arm, stopping her in her tracks. Leaning in, Indra whispers so quietly only Anya is privy to her words. “Lexa please, you must prepare yourself. I pray the spirits will steady your heart for what you are about to see. I am so sorry, but we have all failed you.”

Once inside Lexa’s movements freeze so quickly Anya stumbles to avoid crashing into her back. As Anya regains her balance, she hears a painfilled whimper followed by the sound of air rushing out of Lexa’s lungs. It is a strange sound, a sound very similar to one that would be made if Lexa had been punched in the gut.

Anya cranes her neck around to try and get a glimpse of what lays further in the tent. When she finally sees the object that has caused Lexa to become nothing but a marble statue, Anya too finds the breath escape out of her lungs.

Laying on the table is a corpse burnt beyond recognition. The carcass has been exposed to such hot flames most of the soft, pale skin that once covered the body has turned into a shocking charcoal like ash. The scene is so horrific the taste of bile hits the back of Anya’s throat and Anya doesn’t even bother to restrain the tears.

“Indra, are you certain this is Clarke?” questions Anya.

“Lincoln found these items on the girl, look for yourself Anya” said Indra as she points to the wooden table next to the corpse.

Looking at the table Anya immediately notices two tarnished blades. The once white leather grips are burnt away leaving nothing but a metal handle. To further confirm the sword’s identify, Anya runs her fingers across the center of the blade. The action wipes away ash and reveals the distinct traditional Trikru engravings lining down the center.

Anya’s heart sinks further when she wraps her fingers underneath a smaller item. The accessory’s face has been smashed, but there is not doubt this is the peculiar time device Clarke would always wear on her wrist.

“Indra is there anything else?” With a shaking voice, Anya prompts Indra further, “Could it be possible these items have been stolen from Wanheda to mislead us?”

“Look here Anya.” Indra’s voice uncharacteristically cracks as she holds out the corpse’s half burnt hand. “It’s the chosen mark.”

When Anya sees the tattoo she watched Clarke receive only nights ago, Anya’s knees begin to feel weak. Before Anya has a chance to answer, Indra continues to show more looming evidence.

“This too was found tied around the neck of the corpse,” said Indra as she hands over a small red bag.

Slowly Anya unties the white cords. Anya is hesitant to look inside, but when she gains the courage, she pulls it open to see a scroll of paper. With quivering hands Anya unrolls the message and reads out loud:

“ _The power of death now runs through my veins. Watch for me in the horizon, because one day I will be coming for you Commander.”_

Chills erupt down the length of Anya's spine.

“There’s more inside Anya,” instructs Indra.

Composing herself, Anya reaches back in the bag and pulls out a thick bundle of hair. As gold as the sun itself, the bundle has been twisted into a simple braid.

At the flash of blonde, Lexa finally unfreezes from her shock. She grabs the braid from Anya and runs the soft strands through her fingers. Carefully Lexa holds it to her lips as tears fall uncontrollably down her cheeks.

“Vanilla and cinnamon…”

Anya doesn’t hear the words but watches all the colour drain from Lexa’s face. Before Anya can comprehend what is happening, Lexa dashes out of the tent and jumps on her horse. Leaving nothing but a cloud of dust twirling up into the wind. In an attempt to catch her, Anya grabs the nearest horse. 

“Let her go Anya.” Indra’s firm hand grabs Anya’s shoulder.

“I need to help her Indra! I need to go to her! I am not certain she will survive this!” Anya doesn’t even try to restrain her voice or the tears now falling freely down her face.

“I agree, she will not survive this. I believe the Lexa we once knew has died tonight alongside her _houman_. I will predict this Anya, by the time the sun rises tomorrow all that will be left is a shell of a Commander.”

Before Anya can respond the hair on the back of her neck raises as a far-off scream so broken, so bloodcurdling cuts through the stillness of the night.


	18. Until We Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ground mourns the loss of their fallen star. Lexa must learn how to cope without Clarke by her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be honest this chapter hurt to write. I promise I am not trying to be cruel, but it is a necessary scene for Lexa's character development when we meet her five years later. I know I am sorry! but thanks for reading - LMS

**_BEORN_ **

Usually this trip would take much longer. But due to the time sensitivity of his task, Beorn has been ordered to ride nonstop until he reaches Azgeda’s border. And from the way the air feels cooler and the forests are changing, Beorn knows the Trikru/Azgeda border is not too much further. The secrecy of this task has weighed heavy on him and with every step closer to Azgeda, his posture becomes less ridged. It was a tense few days preparing for the Queen’s master plan and there is much relief that the end is near.

After Beorn had found his faux Wanheda living on the streets, the plan was able to roll into motion. He never did learn the homeless girl’s name, but Beorn would rather it be that way. Tasks like these are always easier when there is no emotional attachment. Which is why he had not bothered with the formalities since it was at his hands the street girl was set aflame on the pyre.

To conceal the smell of burning flesh Beorn knew the body had to be burnt away from the city. To discreetly remove both the dead street girl and an unconscious Wanheda from the city, Beorn used the silver coins Nia left to purchase a small wagon and furs.

To be incognito Beorn threw on a merchant’s cloak, making him look like an Azgedian trader. This disguise proved to be extremely valuable when he passed by the Polis guard undetected. Beorn smirks at the memory. Not once did anyone ask to investigate the wagon. If they had, they would have found a surprise hidden beneath the dark furs.

Instead of going straight north, he made a large loop to find a proper spot to burn the corpse with Wanheda’s things. As his queen had instructed, he cut away a fistful of the Skai Princess’s hair and wrapped it up with Nia’s handwritten note. The hope was that the Trikru would find the decoy first and Beorn and the real Wanheda would slip unnoticed through the Trikru territory.

Since Beorn has yet to meet any trouble there is no doubt the Trikru have taken the bait. And thanks to the unexpected adaptation of plans, Beorn believes every grounder will be fooled that Wanheda is dead. Because two days before Clarke’s capture, Beorn realized Clarke has a tattoo. It’s almost a disgrace that the tattoo apprentice had to die at Beorn’s hands too; he was one of great skill and it’s a same such talents are now one with the ground. 

Beorn looks down with slight worry at the captive riding in the front of him. Wanheda had been exceedingly difficult at first, but after the fall yesterday she has spent most of the journey drifting in and out of consciousness. He by no means meant to drop Wanheda off the horse, but it all started when she managed to free her mouth from the gag.

Wanheda yelled at him, spit at him, and then threatened that her wife would never rest until Wanheda was found. Wanheda had even gone so far to say the Commander herself would skin him alive for his treachery.

It had surprised Beorn as he did not remember Nia saying the Wanheda was bonded with anyone. Regardless he knew the threats were empty since he was certain no _houman_ would ever be able to convince the Commander herself to send a search party for some tragic lover’s tale.

After another string of threats Wanheda had spit in his face again. The saliva landed in his eyes causing Beorn to fail to notice the large tree root sticking out of the mossy soil. It all happened so fast, but when his horse stumbled at the high speed, Beorn lost his balance. To his horror Wanheda slipped right out of his grasp and fell headfirst into a large boulder. 

Even now the hollow sound of skull smacking against the large stone makes the seasoned warrior feel slightly sick. He is by no means a healer, but by looking at the paleness of Wanheda’s skin and the small trail of dried blood that has ran from her ears, he just hopes he can keep her living. The task is to bring Wanheda alive and Beorn will do everything he can to deliver the Queen’s request – even if it means running this horse into the ground.

* * *

**_LEXA_ **

The Azgedian vodka burns its way down Lexa’s throat. Usually she would never condone letting such substances overtake her senses, but today in the privacy of her room she welcomes the numbing sensation. With another sip, the clear liquid marks another trail as she reminisces about the excruciating event from this morning. 

The Skaikru called it a funeral. It had been a strange custom compared to Trikru traditions, but nonetheless it was a way for the Skaikru and a few Trikru to say one last goodbye. Clarke had been wrapped in a blue cloth, placed in a wooden box, and lowered deep into the ground not too far from Arkadia’s gates.

It was a strange sight to witness. Seeing how grounders usually burn their dead to release their souls onto the next life. Initially Lexa had been worried about Clarke being laid to rest in such a way as Lexa feared Clarke’s soul would not be released. Only to remain trapped in this life forever. But to lessen Lexa’s stress, Anya summoned the _oudas newanas_. With his help it was determined that since Clarke succumbed to flames her soul would have already been released. Relieving news that instantly brought Lexa peace.

At the ceremony Lexa had not been sure where to stand, so decided it best to remain with the Trikru near the back of the crowd. She felt it would be respectful to leave spaces closer to the wooden box for those who had known Clarke longer.

From her position by the old oak tree, she stood with impeccable posture, hands rested in front of her, and wore a face completely void of emotion. Clarke may have been her _houman,_ but it doesn’t change the fact she is still the Commander.

A line of puffy eyed Skaikru had made their way to the open grave. Each placing an item or two to lay rest with Clarke forever (A custom Indra had found out beforehand and after much thought, Lexa decided the only thing she could part with was Clarke’s tarnished dual blades). As Lexa waited patiently for her turn, she was taken completely off guard when her left hand was grabbed and lifted towards two brown eyes, intently inspecting her charcoal ring.

“ _Oh my god… so you’re the mystery. The one she loved,”_ whispered Raven into Lexa’s ear. Lexa’s remembers it was in this moment the Commander’s mask slipped for a few minutes before falling back into place. “ _Commander, don’t you dare cower in the shadows. Come with me where you belong.”_

Lexa had been unsure at first, but with a nod from Anya, she proceeded to the front with Raven. During the program Bellamy read a small speech in remembrance of Clarke’s life. Lexa remembers her internal smile when his deep voice recounted the story of Clarke’s time on the ground. And how without the Princess’ stubbornness, the Skaikru would not be where they were today.

When it was her turn to lay rest her items, she felt her stomach twist with a wave of nausea. Lexa had fought it back but struggled to keep her knees from buckling under her weight as she made her way towards the coffin. Lexa barely recalls what happened next but remembers placing a kiss along the flat edge of each blade. Taking her last look at Clarke’s body, words her _houman_ had once taught her automatically found their way to Lexa’s lips:

_“In peace, may you leave this shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our next journey on the ground. May we meet again my love.”_

As soon as Lexa had finished the blessing, she felt herself snap. For fear of making a scene, she called for her horse and the next thing she knew she was galloping away from Arkadia. At dangerous speeds she made her way towards Polis. Zigzagging teary eyed through the underbrush until her horse stopped. Now, she has found herself here.

Lexa refills her bronze cup with clear liquid. This time instead of taking a sip, she shoots back the contents. Without hesitation she refills the cup again, then again, and again until all she can feel is a numbing sensation in her limbs. Out of safety for herself, not once has she let herself slip past soberness. But today Lexa could care less if someone would try to assassinate her. In fact, she would stick her neck out personally to welcome it.

When she stands up from her lounge chair, her knees buckle under her weight. Reaching out Lexa barely manages to grab the corner of her desk. Somehow, she finds enough strength to catch herself from crashing onto the floor. Lexa looks at her feet, they feel like cement. It’s confusing, but she doesn’t dwell on this thought much longer. She is on a mission to get to the West-wing.

When she reaches the furthest door West, Lexa can’t bring herself to turn the handle. Sighing she leans her head up against its red wood. Truthfully, she is not sure why she is here. She has already vowed to never enter past this threshold again, but ironically here she is. It is as if she hopes to find something other than a black, empty void behind this door.

Lexa tries to rationalize with herself. Retreat to safety, to come back when things are clearer. Because right now there is nothing but pain in there. For a moment she almost convinces herself to return to her room, but then the alcohol manages to convince her otherwise. 

With an inhale she slowly turns the handle. Pushing the door, Lexa opens it with much more effort needed. Stumbling in her drunken eyes take a few seconds to process the contents of the room. Blinking to clear her vision she begins to focus on Clarke’s possessions scattered throughout the room. A hard-lump forms at the back of her throat. It is like Clarke has never left.

Neatly folded clothes sit at the end of the bed. Clothes that were most likely set out by Niylah so Clarke could have something to change into after her morning spar. Lexa runs her fingers through the light furs. The texture is soft and tickling when she brings them closely to her face. A scent Lexa has been longing for immediately greets her senses, and for a moment it is as if Clarke is right there.

Lexa puts the furs down, but after a few minutes she retrieves them again. Smells don’t hold in material for long. She needs to savour this while it lasts. 

She throws Clarke’s blanket around like a cloak and for a moment it feels like a safety net. Lexa buries her face so deeply into the hairs she cuts herself off from the outside air. Upon another sniff of the vanilla cinnamon every wall Lexa has ever built up breaks wide open. Like a dam breaking open, emotions the Commander tried so hard to suppress today gush to the surface. And there’s nothing she can do to stop the uncontrollable sobs.

This isn’t this first time Lexa has cried for Clarke. She has had many tears, but every time the weight of the Commander’s position was always distant in her mind. But now, her tears are different. Perhaps it is because no one is lingering behind her back or maybe the alcohol is to blame, regardless an internal switch has flipped.

With each sob Lexa feels as if she is being gutted from the inside out. In between the laboured breaths and painful wails, Lexa bellows heart wrenching screams deep into the furs. This sudden surge of emotion is so much, Lexa feels the need to set it free. With a barely coordinated hand Lexa reaches over to the clay vase. Throwing it with all her might the terracotta shatters into hundreds of scattering pieces. The explosion is exactly what was needed.

Lexa searches for her next victim. Grabbing the glass jars filled with Clarke’s paintbrushes Lexa screams as she smashes each one to a fate against the tiled floor. The rampage continues as books fly haphazardly off shelves and furniture overturns in such a way, any contents that had been placed on top scatters across the floor.

She continues the rampage but is so caught up in her fury she doesn’t notice the broken glass cutting deep into the soles of her feet. Soon a trail of black droplets maps out her every step.

Lexa continues her destruction until the room is unrecognizable. Clothes are ripped from their hangers, books torn to pieces, bits of glass are strewn randomly, and even the fireplace mantle has been smashed into two. But she is far from over. Lexa finds her next target. A painting hanging up next to a long rectangular mirror. She goes to grab it, but when her fingers meet the canvas she hesitates.

It is the image of Wanheda bowing before Lexa at Azgeda’s ceremony. Even in her drunken state Lexa knows she could not destroy such a memory, so instead her hands choose the long mirror. The mirror sails at great speed through the air. But before it smashes into the wall, it knocks over Clarke’s wooden easel stationed in the corner. Not once during her rage, did she notice the stand tucked into the corner with a canvas on its brace.

Out of curiosity she is drawn to canvas now laying face down amongst the mirror’s broken pieces. Lexa stumbles over to it and when she overturns the painting her heart stops once again in her chest.

There in front of her is a snapshot of the night she and Clarke shared together sleeping under the stars. The portrait uses the soft glow of candles to illuminate the two lovers sitting on the pile of furs. Lexa can just make out the back of Clarke’s blonde hair. Rubbing her eyes for clarity she notices how her own arm protectively wraps around Clarke who is pointing up to the vast array of stars scattered throughout the night sky.

Lexa’s lips quiver. Next to Orion the Hunter Clarke has painted an elegant swirl of words in the top corner. Through teary eyes Lexa reads over the painting’s title:

_“When a fallen star finds a home on the ground.”_

The weight of the memory sends Lexa crumbling to the floor. Once again, the pain of her lost love overwhelms her and for the second time sobs uncontrollably. Lexa takes in a sharp breath as she passionately smashes her hand into the floor.

“I cannot live without you Clarke!” Lexa takes in another sharp breath as she passionately smashes her hand into the floor again. “Is this the curse I must carry?! Am I hated by the past Commanders this much that even their spirits have not allowed me to love?!” Lexa pulls at the collar of her shirt ripping a long gash into its material before smacking her hand into the floor again. “Do you not see that I always hold my duties as a Commander first?! Have I not fucking pleased you all?!”

**_ANYA_ **

“Oh my God….”

Anya covers her mouth in shock taking in the destruction before her. The mess scattered across the floor is one thing, but what Anya finds most horrific is the stained footprints leading up to the large pool of black blood collecting around Lexa. As Anya steps closer her senses fill with the smell of alcohol. A realization that makes her heart fall. Lexa has drunk herself to a point of such numbness, she can’t feel the shards of mirror and glass slashing her body while sobbing on the floor.

Anya can barely count the times she has had to console her former _seken_. So being privy to such a scene is difficult. The first time Anya had experienced Lexa’s darker side was after the conclave. The second was after the loss of Costia. A time Anya thought she would surely lose her then, but somehow Lexa pulled through and Anya had thought they were past such times.

That was until Clarke fell from the sky. Which brings the third time when Anya confronted Lexa about Clarke just after Clarke returned from the mountain. Each time Anya was gravely concerned for Lexa but always felt Lexa would find the strength to pull through. But today, the fourth time, it’s different. Anya can’t help but fear Lexa has plunged so deep into a darkness there won’t be a recovery. 

“Lexa?” said Anya cautiously moving towards her. To comfort her, Anya proceeds to speak in _Trig_ , “Sssshhh my little _seken_ come here. Let’s get you off all this glass.” As if she was a small child, Lexa follows the sound of Anya’s voice and crawls right into Anya’s secure embrace. “That’s it my little _seken_ , it will be okay. You will be okay.” 

Carefully Anya brushes a tear-soaked piece of hair behind Lexa’s ear and proceeds to rub calming circles into her back.

“I cannot bear these feelings Anya.” Lexa sobs wiping away snot. “Please Anya I will not be able to keep this pain and live. It will kill me. Take it from me please.” Pleading Lexa buries her face into Anya’s neck. “Kill me Anya. Kill me so I do not have to.”

“Your spirit is not going anywhere, not if I have anything to say about it.” Anya places Lexa’s arms securely around her neck and with one swift motion scoops Lexa off the ground. The last time Anya carried Lexa like this she was eight years old and had fallen off a branch high up in the forest. Anya had scolded Lexa for her carelessness, but even after spraining her ankle Lexa defended her actions and said she wouldn’t think twice about doing it again. It was then Anya knew she had a stubborn little _seken_ on her hands.

“Now come, let’s get you washed up Lexa.”

When they reach Lexa’s room, two guards stare wide eyed at the Commander cradled in Anya’s arms. From the glare Anya flashes, they both understand the implicit threat. Whatever events conspired here tonight will never be spoken about or Anya will personally have their tongues. 

After washing Lexa up, Anya thinks she dare not leave Lexa’s side until every once of alcohol has left her body. So, she waits. Cradling Lexa’s sleeping form Anya places another stray piece of hair behind Lexa’s ear. Anya knows it will be best for the time being if she and Indra keep an overly protective eye on Lexa. Anya wipes her own tears away as she reassures herself. Lexa will get through this, she must, their people depend on it. An unfortunate burden Lexa must carry until her last breath.


	19. History Erased

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nia has anxiously waited for Wanheda's arrival. But an unexpected twists of events leaves even Nia herself speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is the last chapter of the past! I repeat, the last chapter of the past timeline. Meaning Wednesday we finally make the time jump! Can't wait for you all to meet Klark. Thanks for reading, and see you Wednesday!

**Azgeda**

**_NIA_ **

Impatiently Nia taps her fingers on the bone armrests of her throne. She watches as her most experienced healer, Nimera, nervously makes her way towards her throne. Since Beorn has returned, Nia has ordered Nimera to remain by Clarke’s bedside until she comes to. But that was a couple of days ago. And as of this morning’s report Clarke is still only drifting in and out of consciousness. Nia rolls her eyes. Had she not assigned the task to her big brut of a General, Beorn, her prize would have been here in one piece.

When Nia had first heard of Clarke’s prowess against mountain, she knew Clarke was extraordinary. Her suspicions were confirmed correct when she first laid eyes on Clarke during one of Azgeda’s audiences with Heda. It was right then and there Nia’s gut told her that the little blonde would be the cornerstone to Azgeda’s ultimate rise to power.

If Nia wants to, she can easily march her armies and take Polis for herself. After all, the Azgedian warriors do outnumber the others at least three to one. But since the Coalition welcomed the Skaikru into the alliance, Nia’s plan for absolute control requires a little more patience. By no means is Nia afraid of the Skaikru themselves, their bodies are weak and soft, but rather Nia fears the weaponry they yield.

To face the Skaikru on the open battlefield would be a massacre Nia could not afford. Not that she cares much for her peoples’ lives. If she had to kill them all herself just for power, she would not hesitate. But Nia is not stupid, her warriors are loyal to her and loyalty is hard to buy. Plus, she will need large numbers to enforce her new world order once Commander Alexandra’s head rests on her mantle.

When Nia was in Polis, her spies had watched Clarke. They reported that Clarke was some sort of Skai royalty; a person of importance who many referred to as their Skai Princess. Her one spy was fortunate enough to eavesdrop upon a private conversation Clarke had with Chancellor Abby. Nia had been both pleased and surprised to learn that the Chancellor is Clarke’s estranged mother. 

Which is why Clarke’s abduction was key. Who better to know the Skaikru secrets than the princess herself? Nia will force every ounce of insight from Clarke until Nia learns all the secrets on how to turn the stars into dust. And once Clarke proves to be of no more use, Nia will slit her throat and absorb the power of Wanheda for herself.

It’s a flawless plan or _was_ flawless. Nia clenches her jaw in annoyance. Clarke’s current condition is like a festering thorn in her side and today Nia has reached her maximum level of impatience. Which is most likely the reason Nimeria is walking so hesitantly towards the throne. Nia expected another report hours ago and Nia would agree with the rumours. She does have a formidable reputation to take heads when impatience gets the best of her.

“My _Haiplana._ ”

“Nimera, there better be good reasons as to why you are late!”

“Yes my Queen. Wanheda has finally awaken and has required a great amount of attention.”

“Excellent! Abner and Beorn my loyal Generals, escort Wanheda to the throne room immediately.”

“My Queen, I fear that I must tell you th-”

Nia waves off Nimera. There’s no time for small talk, whatever it is can wait until after her confrontation with Clarke.

Soon Nia’s heart leaps with excitement when her prize enters the hall. Abner and Beorn firmly hold Clarke tightly as she struggles with great determination to break free. Nia didn’t expect Clarke to come willingly, so it is of no surprise that the Skai princess is putting up such an animalistic effort to escape.

Abner pushes Clarke to her knees before Nia. Clarke immediately tries to stand back up, but Beorn is quick to move. He kicks Clarke’s feet from under her and grabs a fistful of blonde locks. When Clarke ceases to be still, Nia signals to Beorn. Immediately a knife is put to rest against the tendons of her exposed neck.

“Welcome Wanheda! I trust your journey has not been too much of an inconvenience for you?” Clarke furrows her brows in confusion at Nia’s words. If this hostage relationship is to work, Nia will have to teach Clarke a thing or two about proper respect. “So, tell me Wanheda, why do you think I have brought you here?” 

Silence.

“ _smack_!” Nia’s loyal general, Abner, slaps Clarke across the cheek.

“I am not sure how things are done in the sky, but on the ground, we treat royalty with respect. It would be wise to treat me with respect,” said Nia as she rises off her throne. Descending closer to Clarke Nia continues, “something you should quickly learn princess should you wish to live long during your stay. Now I am not going to ask you again. Do you know why I have brought you here Wanheda?”

“What is a Wanheda?” Clarke’s voice shakes with confusion. Nia grinds her teeth. Who knew the Skai princess would be full of such humour?

“You can stop whatever ruse you’re trying to pull here Clark.” Nia releases an icy laugh. “The faster you accept that this is your new home, the faster you will learn that we can be great allies.”

“I am sorry,” Clarke rubs her temples in thought, “but I don’t think I even know you.”

Nia stops in her tracks, glaring at the little _branwada_ below her. Apparently, Clarke wishes for a gruesome death.

“Let me remind you princess, it is me who holds your destiny in my hands. With a snap of my fingers Beorn would not hesitate to slide that blade deep into your throat.” Nia runs her fingers along Clarke’s cheek. “Unfortunately for you, you do not have the protection of your people up here. Not even the Commander can save you within my walls! You remember the Commander, right Wanheda? My spies did tell me that you two appeared to be quite close. Such a shame she will never see you alive again.”

Clarke’s face remains impassive. An interesting observation for Nia, especially since Clarke’s confused stare did not even wavier at the mentioned of her rumoured love interest. 

“My people? A Commander? I am sorry I just don’t understand.” 

Angerly Nia tightens her hold on the whip. Whatever was left of Nia’s patience is now long gone.

“Nimera!” Nia violently pulls her whip off her belt. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Nimera quickly stumbles into view. Nervously she wipes the sweat away from her forehead using the cuff of her sleeve.

“My Queen, this is what I was trying to tell you. I fear that the trauma of her fall has somehow stolen away her memories. From my assessment I am afraid that whoever Wanheda was before her journey here has been lost.” With curiosity, Nimera gestures towards Clarke with great interest. “I have never seen such a case; in fact, I am not even sure she knows her own name.”

“What?!” Nia’s knuckles whiten as the grip on her whip tightens. Out of all the things she was expecting today, this was certainly not one of them. Clarke was supposed to be her cornerstone, Nia’s step to ascend to power. And now, all is lost? She cannot accept such a fate. Crouching in front of Clarke, Nia moves so close she can feel the warmth of Clarke's breath on her cheek.

“Tell me your name! Where do you come from!” Nia’s own spit splatters across Clarke’s frightened face. “Answer me or all those you love will suffer my wrath!”

Tears begin to well up in Clarke’s eyes. Nia smirks. Apparently the Skaikru are weaker than she had thought.

“I don’t know! I don’t know who I am!” said Clarke grabbing the sides of her head. “Please help me, I am so scared!”

“You will be granted no such luxury princess. I do not extend such kindness to those who are of no use to me,” said Nia as she glares in the direction of her general. Gesturing towards the wall, she banishes him to the sidelines. “General Beorn step away. You and I will talk later.” The large general gulps under the pressure of Nia’s stare.

Leaning in, Nia presses her lips to Clarke’s ear, “I am sorry Wanheda this did not turn out as planned. I trust your spirit will find peace.” Nia motions to her guards, her patience is done for today. “Guards! Wanheda will be of no more use to us! I think after today’s events we could all use a little entertainment. Slaughter Wanheda into pieces, whatever is left of her feed her the wolves!”

Nia finds rest back on top of her throne as three guards make their way towards the skai princess. When the first warrior raises his sword to decapitate Clarke, Nia is astonished when Clarke rolls to dodge the attack. While rolling, Clarke uses her leg and kicks the unsuspecting warrior’s sword lose from his grip. Quickly scoping it up, Clarke does not hesitate to slice the first warrior’s throat sending a spray of blood into her golden hair.

Nia’s jaw falls wide open. Even with her memory loss, Clarke’s movements appear to be innate dancing around the other two warriors. When Clarke moves to the offensive, Nia squeals in delight as another warrior succumbs to the blade. When the third warrior’s head rolls to the floor, Nia can’t contain herself. She needs to test Clarke more; to see what Clarke is truly capable of.

“Abner! Bring me Wanheda’s head!”

The loyal general swiftly moves towards a bloodstained Clarke. If he is afraid, Abner doesn’t make it apparent. But of course, Nia wouldn’t expect any less from her more decorated general.

“Clash!”

With force, the two blades crash into each other. Abner swiftly swipes his blade left and then to the right, but to Nia’s enjoyment Clarke blocks the attacks. Nia can tell from her fighting style Clarke prefers to remain on the defensive. She appears to be a patient fighter, and if Abner is not careful, Clarke’s well played strategy will cause him to tire.

Nia quickly inhales when she notices a slight moment of weakness in Clarke’s defensive stance. An opportunity that Abner has noticed too. With a swift kick to the chest, Abner sends Clarke tumbling to the floor. The force of the impact sends Clarke’s weapon flying out of her hand. It clatters along the cool cement and at the sound makes Abner smirk in victory.

Nia leans onto the edge of her throne, anticipating her General’s next move. Abner’s over confidence is a mistake as Clarke quickly flips onto her feet grappling the seasoned warrior. When Clarke sends the general flying over her back, Nia erupts into laughter. Out of all the things that could have happened this was not one of them. Abner’s recovery attempt is proven fruitless when Clarke moves to the offensive. Nia has never witnessed such fluid movements and cannot help but watch Clarke in awe.

“ _SNAP_!”

The sound of Abner’s neck cracking bounces off the cement walls. With a thump his large, lifeless body slumps to the floor. A few more guards rush into the room. At the sight of the frenzy eyed Wanheda, they hesitantly look to Nia for direction.

With a feral like laugh Nia decides she has had enough entertainment for today. Perhaps Clarke will not be as useless as Nia originally thought. Drawing her whip, she flicks her wrist sending the leather strands flying towards Clarke. With precision, it wraps around Clarke’s neck and Nia pulls her to the ground.

“Guards secure Wanheda so Nimera can sedate her!” Swiftly guards take hold of Clarke as Nimera forces a yellow liquid down a reluctant throat. In less than two minutes, Clarke collapses into a deep sleep.

“Escort her to the North wing. Make sure she is treated just as well as the other three.” As they exit. Nia swivels towards her giant general. “You can stop holding your breath Beorn. It appears your failure has birthed something triumphant!” Nia bites her lip in thought as she considers her options. “How many people do you think recognized you and Wanheda when arriving into Azgeda?”

“None my Queen. Once in our territory, I had used the hood of her cloak to cover her face. And as you had instructed, I timed it perfectly so we would ride into our capital at nightfall. Only those who were with us in Polis would be able to identify her as the Skai Princess, everyone else has no idea what Wanheda looks like.”

“Very well. In order to conceal this secret, we must take caution,” said Nia, pausing before continuing her thoughts. “I will need you to kill all of those who were with us in Polis. Be sure to include the two guards who just escorted Wanheda to her new room.”

“My Queen…” Beorn’s eyes widen in disbelief, “are you certain?! Those who travelled with us are some of our best warriors.”

“You should mind your place Beorn, seeing as only moments ago you too were about to be fed to the wolves. We have thousands of warriors, surely twenty can be replaced.”

“How should it be done?”

“I’ll leave it up to you. Just make sure you do it quietly, we don’t want unnecessary questions, do you understand?”

“Yes my Queen. And of Nimera?”

“Nimera is to be kept alive. Her knowledge of potion is far too valuable. Plus, she will be needed if Clarke’s indoctrination is to be successful. Threaten her with her granddaughter’s life. Should Nimera speak the truth of Wanheda, be sure she knows she will watch her beloved grandchild be flayed alive.”

“And of her tattoo?”

“Whose tattoo?”

“Wanheda’s my Queen. It appears the rumours were true. The Commander may have been closer to the girl than we had thought. The girl wears the Commander’s symbol on one of her fingers. Could this possibly be a bonding tattoo?”

A sharp laugh escapes the Nia’s lips. Could it be? To steal the Commander’s love not once but twice? Another laugh erupts into the air. The irony in this day it too much, how could things get anymore perfect.

“If this is the case the spirits favour Azgeda Beorn! Summon the tattoo artist immediately and have it covered up with an image of a wolf. I now believe more than ever Clarke is the one who has been prophesized. She is the winter wolf who has crawled from the ice. When ashes fall, she will be the one to lead Azgeda to its glory!” 

“As you wish my Queen. Is there anything else?”

“In fact, there is,” pondered Nia out loud. “I think we both can agree Clarke is more than extraordinary. Send word for the tailor, Clarke will need to be fitted with a new wardrobe. Be sure to instruct him that these garments must be of the finest quality. Whatever the price is, pay him for it. 

Command the royal handmaidens to gather additional warpaint and to find some red hair dye. Just like her new brother and sisters, her identify must always be concealed. Today we celebrate the death of Clarke kom Skaikru! Tomorrow, our nation will bow before it’s new princess, Klark kom Azgeda! The fourth and final member of my precious _bloka_. Long may she protect our people!”

“To Klark kom Azgeda! Long may the winter wolf reign.”


	20. Wintam Pakstoka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After long travels, Azgeda is the last clan to assemble in Heda's war camp within the Glowing Forest borders. All eyes expectantly wait to meet the mysterious heir, the so called Wintam Pakstoka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally present time! Just a reminder that there has been five years from chapter 19 to this chapter. Alright, let's meet Klark. Thanks for reading and see you Sunday - LMS

**Present Time -** **Glowing Forest Clan territory**

**_KLARK_ **

They have been riding for so long now, Klark has lost count of the days her army has spent traveling south. From the scouts’ reports, they should reach the base camp's outskirts this afternoon. At the that reminder, Klark exhales in relief. She longs for nothing more than a proper bath and rest.

So far, the journey has been relatively successful. Well as successful as it can be when leading the largest army Azgeda has ever assembled across the Coalition. Klark was initially concerned how her warriors would fare during the travels, but as of yet, no serious diseases or other sicknesses have plagued the group. Another thought that brings her relief. 

Well a few fell sick with what the healers refer to as _Deimeika feisbona,_ or rather sun poisoning, but all have recovered quickly with the help of Nimera’s healers. It is a blessing that the Commander’s call was in a cooler season rather than the heat of the summer months. Klark doesn’t know how long this mission will take. But she feels more at ease that if it should take longer than expected, her warriors will at least have a chance to climatize to the intense heat the south offers.

A trickle of sweat slides down Klark’s cheek. It might be a cooler season here, but it is already as hot as Azgeda's summers. And if Klark were to choose, she personally would prefer cooler temperatures especially since her black and white paint adds an extra layer of heat.

“Our paint sure makes the heat less enjoyable,” said Echo as if reading Klark’s mind. Looking to her sister Klark notices that she too looks just as uncomfortable as Klark.

Echo and Demetri are the other members of the _bloka_ that have joined the campaign South. Originally Demetri had wanted to stay back to oversee the small fraction of warriors left behind, but Klark persuaded him to join his two siblings. He was reluctant at first, but to Klark’s joy he eventually agreed. His excuse was that he felt it best that his sisters will be protected with his marksmen skills. But Klark knows the real reason was he finally realized staying home meant being left behind with Ontari.

Even though Echo is by far Klark’s closest sibling, Demetri still holds a special place in her heart too. She couldn’t imagine fighting on the battlefield without him. Plus, his high emotional intelligence and observation skills are ones Klark usually finds quite useful during meetings. And seeing how all the clans will be together, his skills will be very much needed.

Ontari however, was held back from making the journey. Klark rolls her eyes at the thought of her other sister. There is no doubt Ontari is a skilled warrior, but her arrogance and constant need to be in competition with Klark is nothing but annoying. But still, Klark finds it a shame Ontari has stayed behind as Klark would have liked to have her on the battlefield. And for a moment Ontari was going to come, but Nia put a quick stop to their plans. Nia informed Klark that Ontari must remain in Azgeda. To be kept safe at all cost, not leaving Azgeda's borders until Klark completes the task.

Klark winches slightly. Not at the thought of killing the Commander, but at the thought of Ontari being the next one to guard the flame. Ontari is already so full of herself, Klark can’t imagine the Coalition will survive her ego. It will be a large cost, but perhaps a necessary trade-off if it means their mother will finally achieve her new world.

Klark is not sure why, but there is a slight tinge of excitement at the thought of finally putting a face to the Commander. Odd feelings that somewhat annoy Klark especially since she has always been taught to despise the leader. Nia has warned Klark that Alexandra’s motives may seem just, but to be careful as the Commander is full of deceitful games and secretly wants to see Azgeda’s demise. 

She has also heard the Commander is a shell so hollow she is incapable of all empathy; emerald eyes that are so haunting, chills can be felt surging up the spine. Coincidentally tales all very similar to Klark’s own rumoured whispers. And perhaps this is the reason Klark feels so inclined to meet this Commander.

Klark doesn’t lack empathy but has grown cold to cope with the weight of her duties. As the heir, Klark is Nia’s weapon. A formidable killer who has had to perform thousands of atrocious acts on behalf of the Queen. But even as gruesome as they are, not once has Klark disobeyed her Queen’s orders. Regardless of the personal turmoil each task has caused her, Klark will always remain loyal to her adoptive Mother. Loyalty owed not only because Nia has named her heir, but because Nia has given Klark a second chance to belong to a family. And for that Klark will forever be indebted.

“What are you thinking about Klark?” said Echo, pulling Klark out of her thoughts. 

“Truthfully? Many things Echo.” Klark pauses as she adjusts her seat in the saddle, “but mostly I’m worried about how we will be received.”

“Is that why you're so quiet today?”

“I suppose. Are you nervous?” questions Klark. 

“Well this will be the first time Azgeda’s armies have answered a call, so yes, I am slightly nervous to see how we are perceived too.”

“As am I. Azgeda has always been viewed as a lessor clan and I worry we will not get the respect we deserve.”

“Klark! You can’t seriously believe that the other leaders won’t give you respect? You have quite the feared reputation. Not too long ago a Broadleaf merchant was overheard telling Khalon that many Broadleaf warriors have spent much time praying to the spirits for protection. Apparently, they fear that Azgeda’s winter wolf is bound to steal their soul.”

Klark presses her lips together to stop a smile that is threatening to form on her lips. The foolishness of some of these rumours.

“Regardless of my reputation, I will still have to prove myself. As Azgeda's future Queen, I will be under constant watch. Many will be looking to search out weaknesses that could be exploited against me when I rule.”

“And strengths!” said Echo clapping her hands in excitement. “Just wait till they see you spar Klark! Only a fool would not respect you after they see how you handle those two blades.”

“Perhaps,” Klark humbly shrugs Echo’s compliment off, “but I would prefer to forge relations out of genuine connection than fear. I would rather have an alliance based off mutual gain than to have a clan submit because they fear I will steal their soul or whatever other ludicrous rumours are out there these days.”

Echo laughs, “True. Are you worried about how our army will perform?”

“Yes. We have been viewed as weak for far too long. And since I’ve became heir it has been my desire to gain us the respect we deserve. Not only for our people, but for Nia too.”

“Well you sure have put in a lot of time.”

“Yes, I am grateful for the time Nia has allowed me to spend researching different military strategies. I have led many armies Echo, but none as large as this. All I hope is that the years I’ve spent working with our Generals will finally pay off.”

“Wait! Is that tents in the distance?”

Klark follows Echo's stare. Straining her eyes, Klark feels another wave of relief wash over her when the silhouettes of tents can be seen lining the horizon. 

“It appears so. I do not think I've been so excited to see a war camp. I pray to the spirits the Commander doesn’t demand an audience with us right away. All I can think about is how much I would like a cool bath right now,” said Klark exchanging a soft smile with her sister before turning to her Generals. “General Leo! Send riders ahead to let the Commander know we have arrived!”

“It will be done at once my _kwin._ ”

* * *

**_ANYA_ **

“Heda, I am sorry to interrupt, but I have just received reports that the Ice Nation’s army is in the distance.”

“It is about time they show themselves!” said Indra pounding the end of her spear into the dirt. “Heda, they already pay you disrespect with their tardiness. Let us use them as an example. Show the other clans what happens when the Commander is disrespected!”

Indra’s words hiss from her lips; it is no secret her feelings towards the ice warriors are ill at best.

“No such actions will be done Indra. We must remember the Ice nation has traveled the furthest and has brought us the largest force. We should be thankful they have proven to be serious about the brand they took five years ago.” Lexa gently scolds, before returning her attention back to the messenger. “Do the scouts reported anything else?”

“ _Sha_ , Heda. I have been told that Nia appears not to be among them, but rather the army is being led by her rumoured children the _bloka_!”

At this Anya feels her interest peak. She has heard about Nia’s adoptive children. All formidable warriors, who have spent much of their energy training to kill.

“How can you be so sure?” questions Anya.

“There are three riders who lead the army, each possessing black and white painted faces. A characteristic Nia’s royal children are supposedly known for. I have not seen them with my eyes, but I do trust the reports of my source.”

“Heda! Another insult.” Once again Indra drives her spear into the ground. “What makes Nia think she can dismiss your call?”

Anya notices a slight roll in Lexa’s eyes. Over the years Indra has became unnecessarily protective of Lexa. Well, truthfully Anya has too. Anya knows that even though Indra’s intentions are sincere, this time it is a little bit overkill. 

“It is not necessary for clan leaders to come when the I call them into battle. Many come for no reason other than to seek an audience with me or accompany their Generals into war for additional excitement. Oli kom Sankru has chosen not to attend and has sent his son in his place. It appears the Ice Queen has chosen to do the same. If I have heard correctly, aren’t these royal children quite the warriors?”

Anya leans on the table scanning the clan placements etched sloppily into a piece of paper. Truthfully Anya had not known much about the _bloka_ either. But once she heard that they could be charged with leading the Ice nation army south, Anya sent spies posed as merchants to Azgeda. As a result, Anya has learnt a great deal of things.

“The _bloka_ are said to be orphans Nia has taken in under her wing,” explains Anya. “There are four siblings. One prince and three princesses, all who can be identified by their black and white warpaint. My sources say that their true faces are never seen by the people. It is even rumoured that many in their service have had their sight taken in order to keep their identities concealed.

And you are right Commander; they are all fearsome warriors. All four have been conditioned under such rigorous methods, that many say they are not even human. It is claimed that Nia’s favourite has yet to lose a battle. Apparently she has killed so many even the spirit of death bows to her.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Lexa snaps her fingers as if trying to recall a memory. “The _Wintam Pakstoka._ The one Nia named heir a few summers ago. What else do you know about her Anya?”

“Truthfully? Not much. There is little known about any of her children. I believe this has been one of Nia’s best kept secrets. The only thing my sources have confirmed is that one daughter is from caves deep within the Illok mountains. The son was adopted when raiders had destroyed his village. And the third daughter’s name is apparently Echo, but my source did not know where this Echo has originated from.”

“And the heir?”

“Is even more of a mystery. No one knows much about her other than many fear that her blue eyes can take souls. And like you mentioned, they call her the _Wintam Pakstoka,_ Azgeda’s winter wolf.” 

In the corner Indra grunts with slight disgust, but Anya can tell by Lexa’s shift in posture that she is intrigued by these mysterious warriors.

“So, it appears the Ice Queen has finally released the feared winter wolf from her den. I think it would be wise to keep a close eye on Azgeda, especially on Nia’s mysterious successor.” Lexa pulls the camp map closer and carefully she analyzes it.

“I agree. Where in camp should they be located?”

“Here,” said Lexa placing a finger down on the parchment. “This is where we will place Azgeda. The Blue cliff and Rockline are the Ice Nation’s closest allies, so I believe it best to keep them separate. But as always, I trust Luna to keep an eye on things so we will put them by the Floukru. Which means to their left will be the Skaikru. Our alliance with the Skai people has been shaky since….” Lexa’s eyes trail off to the far back corner before directing her attention back Anya, “well it doesn’t matter now does it. My confidence resides with General Kane and Councillor Reyes to maintain the peace. They too will keep a watchful eye on Azgeda.”

Anya can feel the tent’s air grow stale and finds relief when another messenger rushes through the tent flaps breaking the almost uncomfortable silence. 

“Heda! A small party of Azgeda riders are approaching!”

“Send out a group to meet them at once. Anya, take Lyra and accompany the riders. Observe the _bloka_ ; we do not know much about these royals, so use your skills. Any information you can gather will be useful. And Anya? Do be careful, we would hate to find out what happens when this so-called legendary winter wolf feels threatened.”

* * *

**_LYRA_ **

Lyra looks over at Anya as they trot with haste. From Anya’s posture Lyra can tell the seasoned warrior is relaxed. The General has had many experiences like this, but this is Lyra’s first. Even though she’s heard these greetings are nearly boring rituals, Lyra can’t help feel nervous for the political games. It’s always a fine line between ego stroking and pushing boundaries with surface insults. It takes skill knowing how far is too far. And seeing as Lyra has absolutely no experience, its fair to say that General Anya will do all the talking. Something Lyra prefers, she would hate to start a civil war by accidentally insulting one of the Ice nation royals.

 _“_ Welcome Ice nation!” a Trikru scout calls out the first reception.

There is no greeting in return. Lyra feels a slight chill run down her spine when she scans the cold, impassive gazes from the small party – apparently the term “ice” describes more than just their climate. Each warrior is littered with tattoos and Lyra cannot help but notice all have earned the discrete scarring carved into their temples.

“Our _kwin_ wishes to know where we can station our camp.” A large warrior with a deep, unpolished voice speaks first. His towering body sits high atop a brown horse swirled with white war paint. And like its rider, the horse too seems just as impatient as it paws deeply into the ground. Lyra can tell the Trikru messenger is intimidated by the ice nation’s cold display. Anya too appears to notice the messenger’s intimidation and directs her horse to the front of the Trikru group.

“We have been told your _kwin_ has stayed behind in Azgeda. Does the ice nation have a new Queen the Coalition is unaware of?” questions Anya.

At first Lyra is confused why Anya would ask such a thing. They had just discussed Nia’s whereabouts earlier, but then realizes Anya is fishing for information and its genius.

“Our _haiplana_ remains in Azgeda where she has ruled for the last _three_ decades. Our _kwin_ , the heir to the throne, has traveled far to be here. I am sure she would be appreciative if we would cut these formalities and get our camp set up as quickly as possible.”

“Of course. You are to be positioned between Skaikru and Flokru. We will accompany you back to your _kwin._ ”

The ice nation warriors hardly wait for Anya to finish before each horse spins to gallop away. Not to be left behind in some power move, both Anya and Lyra dig their heels deep into their horses and quickly follow suit.

They ride hard for almost twenty minutes and only when they approach the enormous oncoming army does the pace slow. Lyra’s eyes widen; this is the first time she has seen so many Ice nation warriors at once. Not only does the vast size scare her, but she is overwhelmed with intimidation by how cohesive it looks. Each warrior wears the whites and dark blues of the Ice nation. And from the way they stand, it is as if the army appears to be one single being. But that is not what scares Lyra, rather it’s how strategically they march.

Many clans tend to move their armies in one cluster, but this massive army does not move like the other clans do. Instead these warriors are divided into many organized factions. Lyra can’t tell for sure, but it looks like each group is composed of at least forty men and woman neatly arranged in a rectangular like fashion. In between the rows are warriors high on horseback whose armour has a slightly different symbol grooved into the leather than those worn by the ground warriors. The most obvious assumption is that these riders are the Ice nation’s captains and generals.

A large warrior Lyra recognizes as one of the Ice Nation generals who came with Nia to Polis long ago raises his spear into the sky.

“Hold up _!”_

Lyra watches in disbelief as every warrior abruptly comes to a disciplined halt. Not one breaks strategic formation as the rows between each faction remains perfectly spaced. In Lyra’s peripherals Anya’s relaxed posture swiftly straightens. Looking over to see the reason for the General’s change in demeanor, Lyra bites the inside of her cheek to stop from gasping out. 

Riding towards the Trikru are the three Azgeda royals sporting head to chest in black and white paint. The taller princess with white painted lips, sits on a grey spotted horse. Her gaze seems soft and her hands curl around the most beautiful spear Lyra has ever seen. The prince sits with his chest puffed out in pride as he rides a black stallion whose fur is stamped with white bone like markings matching perfectly to the skull outline drawn onto his face.

But Lyra’s attention snaps to the royal in the middle whose long, red hair is pulled back into an elaborate sequence of braids. Unlike the others, her warpaint has a much more dramatic flare. On top of the black painted base, white teethlike marks rest around her jawline. But what sets this royal apart from the others is the two blue lines that streak underneath her one eye. From the way this royal carry herself, there is no doubt that she is the one the rumours call the winter wolf. A thought that makes Lyra shiver.

Inspecting her further, Lyra cannot help but admire the heir’s armour. The white leather breastplate is nothing less than an exquisite showpiece. It has been stitched together with elegant designs that feature ancient Ice nation engravings artistically cut into the leather. When the sun reflects off the armour just right, a vast array of embedded diamonds shimmer into Lyra’s eyes. When Lyra is done gawking over the armour, she moves to the handles of two blades strapped onto the heirs back. Lyra can’t see them fully, but by just looking at the exposed pommels she can only guess they are as much of a masterpiece as the heir’s armour. 

Underneath the heir’s animal skull pauldron lies a sash, much like Heda’s, but instead of crimson it is the same colour as the blue streaked underneath her eye. As Lyra’s gaze catches the heir’s, immediately the hairs at the back of Lyra’s neck prickle up. Never has she felt so small under the weight of a gaze. Once the heir turns her attention to Anya, Lyra feels relieved.

The gaze had been so intense it was as if the wolf was searching the depths of Lyra’s own soul. Unsettling to say the least and it confirms that the rumours around the winter wolf certainly have merit. But what Lyra finds the most unnerving is the fact she cannot help but feel there was something familiar about those blue eyes. Lyra shakes her head for her foolishness. Of course she has never met this heir before, if she had, she would have never forgotten the effect those cold eyes have.

“Welcome to the Glowing forest. I am Anya kom Trikru, General of Heda’s armies. Heda is pleased to hear you have arrived safely.”

“Thank you General Anya. I am Echo kom Azgeda, this my brother Demetri, and this is our _kwin.”_

Anya exchanges the formal nods before motioning back towards the camp.

“You must be anxious to setup. Come, I will escort you personally to your placement between the Skaikru and Floukru.”

Without a further word, the heir turns her attention back to the General Lyra recognized. With no hesitation, the man thrusts his spear into the air and cries out in a booming voice.

“Forward!” 

Once again Lyra is awestruck by the enormous army proceeding forward as a perfectly cohesive unit. Not one daring to step out of line.

* * *

**_ANYA_ **

Anya tightens her grip on the reigns trying to organize her thoughts. She has been riding between the _kwin_ and her siblings for a couple of miles, yet only Echo has attempted to exchange words. Usually Anya is not bothered by silence, but for some reason finds herself strangely anxious by the heir’s quiet nature. Biting her lip Anya is not sure how she should engage. As if inhaling courage, Anya lets her nerves get the best of her and on a whim uncharacteristically blurts out towards the heir.

“Do you like being the heir?”

Out of all the questions Anya could ask, this is the one that leaves her lips? Anya instantly becomes embarrassed for her ineloquent display. If she had the ability to drop dead, now would be the time to do it. Anya clenches her jaw in dread seeing as the heir has barely acknowledged the question. And Anya doesn’t blame her, the question is not one high ranking officials usually would discuss. Rather one from an annoying little _seken_ who's all too noisy for their own good. 

“An interesting question Anya kom Trikru; if I were to be honest it is one that I have never really thought about.”

“Please forgive my manners. I am not sure what overca-”

“No need General. It is a fair question. As far as I remember I have always been a princess to my people. I have known no other life. So, I am not sure how I can truly tell you if I like or dislike my current position.”

Anya feels a wave of relief wash over her. It appears the question has not been taken with offence. She does, however, find it confusing that the heir mentioned always being a princess. Especially since Anya’s sources have told her the _bloka_ all were adopted as teenagers. Anya would like to push the issue further but decides against it. She has already made a fool of herself once today, so for now it best to save that clarification for later.

“I find Azgeda’s placement in camp interesting.” The randomness of the statement surprises Anya. Perhaps this is the reason the heir has been so quiet. Clenching her teeth, Anya nervously waits for the heir to continue. “The reason I find it so noteworthy is that the Floukru are one of Heda’s closest allies, so it appears Heda wants to keep a close eye on us. What do you think Anya? As a clan leader, should I take this as a sign of distrust?”

Anya presses her lips together. She must choose her next words wisely, or things could escalate quickly.

“I do not know the rationale for our Commander’s decisions.”

“Yet did you not say you are the Commander’s highest General? I think you and I both know as a former mentor you would be very much involved in such decisions. Especially since you have been a motherlike figure to the Commander since the age of eight.”

It becomes uncomfortably hot under Anya’s light cloak. She is taken aback not only by how intelligent the heir is, but how apparent it is that much research has been done. Anya squirms under the unpleasant weight of feeling exposed. It is unsettling that so much is known about her, yet Anya knows so little about this wolf in return. 

“Do not be concerned General, I did not ride all this way to question Heda’s decisions. Besides, she proves wise in her choices. Had I been in her shoes I am sure I would have wanted to keep an eye on my newest clan too.” The heir pauses as if considering her next words. “When you do find yourself debriefing this conversation with the Commander please be sure to include that Azgeda reciprocates the same level of trust.” 

Chills run down Anya’s spin. The message behind the heir’s words are loud and clear. It appears the wolf is just as dangerous as they all had thought.


	21. A Warm Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klark is summoned to the Commander's tent. Both Klark and Lexa are expectant to size each other up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday. I hope everyone is having a great weekend. Thanks for reading - LMS

**_KLARK_ **

“Right over there is fine,” said Klark pointing to a corner of her tent.

“Of course my _kwin.”_

With a soft thump Klark’s travel chest is set at the foot of her large bone bed frame. The tent itself is alive with activity as royal handmaidens carefully fluff and unfold arctic furs only to swiftly tuck them under Klark’s king-sized mattress. Soon a table, armoury, a few chairs, and a throw rug all make their way into the generously sized tent. The last piece of furniture ushered in is Klark’s ivory throne. She normally never sits on it but keeps it for appearances in the event a clan leader or General would request a meeting.

In Azgeda hierarchy, a _kwin’s_ word is just as binding as the _haiplana’s_ unless the _haiplana_ is in the same room. Then the _haiplana’s_ word is the final say. A tradition that has caused some trouble for past monarchs, but so far Nia has been lucky with Klark.

“What did you think of the General Klark?”

Echo’s voice pulls Klark’s attention from organizing her bookshelf. Klark may have many duties as heir, but she always manages to squeeze in a few hours of reading here and there.

“She proved to be less arrogant than I had expected. And by her stature she is no doubt an excellent warrior.” Klark smirks slightly as she recalls the meeting, “but from the way the other Trikru warriors acted around her, I sense General Anya has the tendency to be quite quick-tempered. I pity whoever has had to suffer under her mentorship as a _seken_.” 

“Well I am sure nothing can compare to mother’s methods. Like when she threw me into the bear pit with nothing but a stick! I barely made it out alive that day. I think I would have killed for General Anya as a mentor.”

“Yet you survived. And it is because of these methods you are now the best spearman Azgeda has ever had. Mother may be cruel, but without her we wouldn’t be who we are today.”

“Out of all of us, you have endured the most pain Klark. I may have been thrown into a pit of hungry bears, but I do not think I could have survived what you have endured under her training.” Echo pauses, quickly scanning for any lingering ears. “She has changed you Klark and you know it! Her obsession with fulfilling our ancient prophecy has gotten out of hand and I think she puts too much pressure on you. How can you be thankful for her methods?”

When Klark closes her eyes, the sounds of distant screams emerge from a dark corner deep within her mind. Clenching her jaw, Klark attempts to stop the swell of unwanted emotions. Once the numbness returns, Klark flashes Echo a reprimanding look.

“I should not have to remind you the consequences for speaking ill of our Queen Echo. I may be the heir, but not even my power can save you should the wrong ears hear your complaints.” Klark pauses until Echo nods in understanding. “The Queen took me in when my life was lost and for that I will always be indebted to her. With her mentorship I have gained skills I probably would never had a chance to master if I were still living my old life in Ironoak.”

“But is there not a part of you that wonders what your life was like before you were…” Echo gestures around to the elaborate contents within the tent, “well before you were a part of all of this?”

“I will admit I had spent more time daydreaming in the earlier years than I do now. But I like to think before Ironoak was destroyed by…” Klark’s voice tapers off. The thought of the Skaikru makes her blood boil. Klark wants so desperately to walk into their camp and slaughter every single being who’s affiliated with Skaikru’s so called farm station. Anything to avenge her past life, but Klark knows she can’t.

Before she left, Nia made Klark promise she would not do anything rash that would distract her from the true mission. Klark had been hesitant, but Nia reassured that once Ontari becomes the new Commander, Klark will have the chance for _jus drein jus daun._ So for now Klark will do her best to tolerate the Skaikru who _conveniently_ are their neighbours for this campaign.

“Klark?”

“uh yes, sorry what was I saying?”

“Daydreaming about Ironoak?”

“Oh right. Before the farm station destroyed everything, I like to believe I had a large family. I think I was probably the oldest of my siblings. I find myself imagining that my little sisters looked to me for protection and my brother and I would spend days hunting in the nearby woods. I bet my mother was the local seamstress and my father was... oh I don’t know perhaps a farmer? We weren’t the richest family in the village, but I like to think we were the happiest.” Klark’s eyes well up with unwanted tears. Filled with shame Klark turns her head away from Echo. “But it doesn’t matter now does it? Dwelling on something I do not remember only weakens the mind. Which is something I cannot afford before tomorrow’s audience with the Commander. We should get some rest. The journey has been long, and I am starting to find myself getting quite tired.”

“Yes, me too. Good night Klark.”

“Good night Echo.” 

* * *

**_LEXA_ **

The dagger swivels in between her fingers as Lexa impatiently waits for Anya’s arrival. Today all her clans have finally arrived and in two days they will officially start organizing for their war.

So far everyone has settled in without too much of a hassle, but Lexa is still a little expectant to see how clan dynamics will play out. Especially since it has been five years since all clan leaders were in the same room. Lexa sighs. Hopefully everyone can put their differences aside to focus on the true threat.

Over the years the Coalition has had its ups and downs, especially since the fall of the mountain. The mountain had been a nuisance, but it held the alliance together. It was a common threat. After the mountain there was one year the western clans wanted to separate. But that was the year the sky held off the rain until every crop scorched to a crisp. When starvation plagued the clans, the leaders came crawling back to Lexa for help. All pleading for forgiveness for even thinking about abandoning the alliance.

The next year Igor stirred up trouble when he disgraced some virgins serving in one of the Glowing forest’s high priestess temples. The Glowing forest was calling Heda to deliver his head. When she refused the clan was very close to marching into the blue cliff territory and taking Igor’s head for themselves. The whole ordeal starkly divided the Coalition into different alliances. The blue cliff had the support of the Rockline and Azgeda armies, where Broadleaf and the Plain riders vouched for the Glowing forest. Thankfully, the rest had remained neutral and tensions eventually ceased when the two clans somehow reconciled their differences at the solstice festival that following fall. 

“Heda, I am sorry I kept you waiting. There was a little tension between the Sankru and Blue cliff, but all seems to be forgotten.”

Lexa stills the dagger’s movements, but quickly resumes when she notices Anya is not too worried about the small dispute. Lexa knows she should probably question further, but her eyelids are starting to feel heavy and she would rather go straight to the more pressing business.

“And? What information have you gained on Azgeda today?”

“Many things Lexa. The army we fought against almost a decade ago is not the same army that has marched to our aid today.”

Lexa feels her interest peak. Throughout the day she had heard murmurs of how intimidating the army is but hasn’t put much thought to it until now.

“In which ways?”

“Everything from their discipline, demeanour, receptiveness to command. It is unreal; they all move as if they are one unified unit. It’s impressive Lexa. Rows and rows of warriors all organized in smaller rectangular like groups. I have never seen a military strategy like this ever before and I have no doubts this _kwin_ has something to do with it.”

Lexa leans back in her throne. Azgeda has always had the numbers but lacked military tactics. If they somehow have managed to master both? Well, they would possibly pose a huge threat to the Coalition if they would desire more power. An almost terrifying thought.

“And of the kwin?”

“She is a true wolf; there is no question Nia chose well. The heir is far too intelligent to be deceived. Immediately she called me out on Azgeda’s placement. I tried to deter in the fear that I would cause further trouble, but she was able to call my bluff.”

Lexa’s eyes narrow with curiosity taking in this interesting information.

“How so?”

“She knew right away the reason Azgeda was placed by the Floukru. She knows your history with Luna and knew it was a sign of distrust. I get a sense Azgeda reciprocates this same level of trust. If we are not careful, we could have a powerful enemy on our hands.”

“Then we must try harder to find as much information we can on this heir. Was there anything else? Anything you remember that could give us a little more leverage?”

“Actually yes. She commented how the royal life is all she’s ever known. Which contradicts all the information my sources provided. I may be confused, but I thought I understood that Nia’s children were adopted when they were around seventeen summers.”

“Strange, but perhaps she intended differently? Regardless there is still much more uncertainty than I would like. I think it would be wise if we assign a few warriors to watch this heir when she is outside Azgeda’s camp.”

“I agree Lexa.”

“Good. This heir is dangerous, but the question we need to answer now is just how much of a danger is directed to us.”

* * *

**_KLARK_ **

Klark slips her fingers into the small container. Generously she begins to apply its contents as she welcomes the cooling sensation it brings to her face. For the amount of warpaint applied, Klark is incredibly fast at this ritual. Which then again is not that much of a surprise seeing how she performs this routine religiously everyday.

Klark moves towards the long mirror propped up beside her dresser. Tilting her chin, she takes in her reflection and admires the same formal armour as she wore yesterday. She knows the outfit is unnecessarily expensive and Klark would prefer not to showboat her wealth. But it was a gift from Nia and Klark would hate to offend her mother by not wearing the piece. Nia had told her it was a farewell gift, but Klark knows the true purpose was for intimidation. Paired with her thick warpaint and dual blades slung around her waist, Klark knows her image is one many would fear.

The finishing touch is her arctic fur cloak securely fastened into place. She will not need the layer by afternoon, but the morning air has proven to be brisk. Klark tilts her chin again in her reflection. The last thing she needs is to be shivering when sizing up the Commander.

“Are you ready?” said Echo casually leaning at the tent’s entrance.

“I think so,” said Klark while tucking a small gift underneath her cloak. It is one of the many gifts she has brought down from the north and this one belongs to the Commander. It isn’t much, but Nia assured Heda would appreciate it. “Are you sure you do not want to come Echo? I could use your intimidation.”

Klark winks at her sister. She already knows what the answer will be seeing as Echo is still in her casual wear. But it doesn’t hurt to ask again.

“I think you know my decision is final. You know me Klark, I am not really one for politics. That is your gift. I am just here to make sure you don’t get a sword plunged into your back. If I don’t return you to Azgeda alive, I am pretty sure our mother will take my head.”

“But out of all my warriors I would want no one but you to protecting my back.”

“Just so you know flattery is not going to make me change my mind.”

“Fine, you caught me,” said Klark.

At the makeshift stables Klark and Echo find General Beorn and General Leo impatiently watching a small _seken_ struggling to hold Klark’s horse steady.

“Generals.”

 _“_ Echo, my _kwin._ ”

“Well shall we? I do not think it would be wise to keep the Commander waiting much longer than we have. We want to make good impressions not unnecessary enemies during this campaign.”

“As you wish my kwin.”

“I will let you know how it goes as soon as I return Echo. If there is time later this afternoon, we should spar so I can remind you why I am _kwin._ ”

“Remember our teachings about humility Klark. It appears your time down south has already made you forget what happens when one is overconfident.” Echo teases by sticking out her tongue. “I don’t think you want me to remind you what happened the last time you let your confidence cloud your judgement.”

Klark is about to say another witty comeback but notices General Leo’s obvious uncomfortable demeanor with the sisterly banter. It is not often the _bloka_ openly display such informal interactions, and in the odd occasion it happens, many do not know how to take it. So Klark decides to let her sister have this round.

The three horses begin walking towards the Commander’s tent. It is not a great distance. One they could have easily walked, but Klark wants to make sure they will not be too late. Plus, the intimidation of showing up on such large beasts couldn’t hurt anyways.

After a few more minutes, the Commander’s red tent comes into view. It is equally, if not larger than Klark’s and sits in the middle of the other Trikru tents.

As they ride through the camp, Klark feels the weight of stares searing into her profile. A slight churn of insecurity starts forming at the bottom of her stomach, but she dares not show it. Instead she straightens her posture and just like she practiced this morning, Klark tilts up her chin in challenge. Daring these Trikru warriors to doubt her authority.

Once at Heda’s tent, a Trikru _seken_ eagerly takes the reigns and ties the horses to the makeshift stables. Klark bites the inside of her cheek. It would be a lie if she said she wasn’t nervous. This is the moment she has prepared for and now she must do her mother proud.

Just before they near the entrance Klark quietly whispers so only her two Generals can hear, “Remember, we are here for good impressions only. Let us do our _haiplana_ proud.”

As two guards pull back the canvas Klark exhales her last-minute nerves before stepping past the entrance. Taking in the layout of the tent, it is much like Klark’s own. A divider hangs from the ceiling that acts as a barrier between Heda’s personal quarters and the throne area. For a moment Klark finds herself curious to know what Heda’s personal area looks like, but such thoughts are cut short when a grunt captures her attention.

Klark looks towards the noise and makes eye contact with a darker skinned warrior whose expression frowns with disproval. From her position on the podium, it’s clear that she is one of Heda’s Generals. From Klark’s research she knows Heda has two Generals and since she has already met General Anya, Klark can assume this feisty one is Indra.

Klark does not falter from holding contact with the deep brown eyes. To see how far Klark can push the General she tilts her chin slightly to issue a challenge; bait Indra instantly takes. Swiftly Indra moves towards Klark and the noise of an unsheathing sword meets Klark’s ears.

Klark does not even waver when a blade’s cool edge meets the base of her neck. To show that she is not intimidated by Indra’s games Klark tilts back her head exposing access to vital veins – an action further taunting the enraged General.

“Have you no respect young leader? When the Commander sets a meeting, it would be wise to prove you are a true leader and make a point to arrive on time! I should cut your throat for the disrespect you have shown here today!”

Klark senses her own two Generals reaching for their swords. Without daring to break Indra’s stare, Klark slightly raises a hand to bring them at ease. She is here for good impressions not bloodshed. That will be saved for later anyways.

“It’s Indra, right? I see the reputation that has preceded you has proven to be correct. If the right to lead is based solely on the merit of punctuality, then tell me which of the clan leaders would meet this requirement?” questions Klark. Without waiting for Indra to answer, Klark continues, “From what I have seen, certainly none. We both know the true reason you hold a blade against my throat has nothing to do with my timelines but has everything to do with whose colours I wear. I have not come here this morning to deal with your personal issues nor your empty threats. If you truly want to slice my throat then be done with it; if not, then stop embarrassing yourself General and step aside.”

The sword falls from Klark’s neck as the brown eyes instantly widen with apparent embarrassment. Just over Indra’s shoulder Klark notes how Anya’s lips press together as if trying to conceal a smirk. If the atmosphere weren’t so tense Klark probably would smirk too. But Klark knows this is not the time to lose her own intensity. Pushing past a dazed Indra, Klark finally takes in the Commander’s throne. 

She dips into a shallow bow. One that she knows is of minimal effort, but as far as Klark is concerned the Commander doesn’t deserve much more anyways. At least not after her General’s annoying behaviour and the distrust Azgeda has been extended so far.

“Heda. I am here as you have commanded.”

The Commander may not know any different, but Klark’s tone is clipped and full of annoyance. She rises back up, and for the first-time Klark locks eyes with a formidable emerald gaze.

So, the rumours are true. There before Klark is a face so void of emotion, even Klark feels a prick of uncomfortableness.

Klark holds the Commander’s gaze as each leader sizes the other up. There is no doubt that the Commander holds a certain authority behind her stare, but Klark can’t help but feel there is something else hiding behind the Commander’s eyes. Whatever it is stirs a strange feeling of familiarity within Klark, something that Klark finds perplexing.

Perhaps it is the way the distant glare reminds Klark of her own reflection. Or maybe Klark is feeling sympathetic in the how Heda too appears to be burdened from the weight of leadership. Whatever it is, Klark’s thoughts are cut short when the Commander’s husky voice breaks the silence. 

“So, you are the one they call the winter wolf. I have heard much about your prowess. Would you say the claims are true that you are the most promised _kwin_ the Ice Nation has ever seen?”

Klark senses a test behind the Commander’s words. Such games Klark is not in the mood for. Screw good first impressions, Indra has already thrown away her positive attitude, so maybe two can dance at this game.

“It depends, what is your idea of a promise Heda? Do the claims say it is my skill that make my promise or is it my loyal word? Could I be a successful leader if I hold promising swordsmanship, but my words are only hollow assurances?” Klark stops to take a breath to compose her rising annoyance. Before Klark continues, she carefully adjusts her blue sash. She may be annoyed, but she needs to be sure to control her emotions. “I believe both are mutually inclusive; you cannot have one without the other. To be a promising leader you need to have many skills as well as uphold your vows. Let me ask you this Heda, do you think our people forget when our vows are broken?”

“Hold your tongue girl, there is no room for mockery or whatever you are trying to prove with these ga-”

“Silence Indra!” The Commander raises her hand to silence the General. It appears she too has had enough of Indra’s outbursts. “I think you have done quite enough here this morning, please leave us.”

Indra’s voice drops to a whisper, but Klark rolls her eyes as she is still able to hear the spoken words.

“Heda, please reconsider. Is it wise to let yourself be outnumbered with these strangers?”

“If I remember my history correctly, these strangers became a part of this Coalition over five years ago,” interrupts Klark. “Strangers who have marched many weeks just to come to Heda’s call. And should I remind you Indra, outnumber your armies three to one. If we are truly not wanted, I am sure my warriors would prefer to spend the next few months in their own beds then this strange territory.”

“Enough!” the Commander slams her hands into the armrests of her throne. A reaction that instantly stills the tent. “Indra I am not going to ask you again, leave us! Anya and I will conduct the rest of this meeting without you.”

“General Beorn and General Leo, please wait for me outside as well. We do not want anyone to feel too uncomfortable in the presence of strangers,” said Klark throwing Indra a taunting glare. “However, do not stray too far as I cannot see this discussion continuing for much longer.”

“Sha, my _kwin._ ”

After all the Generals leave, it is the Commander who first breaks the silence.

“I would like you to know it was never my intention to cause such a commotion here this morning. On behalf of my General, I apologize for the offence she has caused. Perhaps you would be willing to start over?” said the Commander stretching out her hand towards Klark.

Klark hesitates slightly before reciprocating the grasp at the Commander’s elbow in. Klark may be annoyed and is no where near fond of the Commander, but Klark can be civil. Especially since Klark will need to build some sort of a rapport with the Commander if she wants to successfully fulfill Nia’s task.

“Of course.”

“Good. You have already been acquainted with General Anya, but I myself have yet to meet you officially. I will admit that the secrecy surrounding the _bloka_ has kept you very much a mystery. I feel ashamed that I only know you as an heir or Azgeda’s winter wolf. So if you would, please tell me a little about yourself.”

Klark presses her lips together slightly. She hadn’t prepared to give the Commander a brief history of her life, nor does she know how much information she wants to disclose. Nia has obviously kept her life a secret for some reason, so Klark fears telling the Commander too much would be going against Nia’s will. But then again Klark is in no position to deny the Commander her request, so Klark decides it best to keep it vaguely as possible. 

“At my eighteen summer I had barely survived the destruction of my village, Ironoak. When I recovered, Nia took me in as the fourth monarch and when I reached my twentieth summer, I was coronated as Nia’s heir.”

“And the name _Wintam Pakstoka_? How does one get such a title?”

“A title gained for my many said accomplishments.” Klark chuckles quietly to herself before continuing, “However, I will be honest, sometimes the stories of my achievements are more or less grotesquely overstated. So for informality sake, please just call me Klark.”

The lighting in the tent is poor, so Klark isn’t certain but she swears the Commander’s face has just paled a few shades.

* * *

**_LEXA_ **

For the second time tonight, Lexa feels her heart stop in her chest. Initially Lexa was first triggered when she saw the heir’s blue eyes. It wasn’t because of how much challenge they held, but it was the familiarity of their unique cerulean blue. A colouring much like the way her late _houman’s_ eyes had once looked. The similarity caused Lexa to immediately paralyze with pain, but thankfully Indra’s overprotectiveness made such an unnecessary commotion Lexa was able to recompose herself undetected.

But now that Klark has said her name Lexa finds the pain tenfold. And unfortunately, Lexa cannot hide behind Indra’s distraction. She tightly grips the handles of her throne trying to will herself to speak, but nothing but air escapes her lips.

Lexa’s behavior is irrational, and she knows it. Klark isn’t an uncommon name (especially after Clarke’s victory over the mountain, many grounders have named their daughters the grounder version in Wanheda’s honor). But what pains Lexa the most is that this Klark has so many similarities to her late Clarke. And to make matters worse, Klark is roughly the same age as Clarke would have been.

Lexa had been twenty summers, and Clarke had been eighteen when death took her. Now at twenty-five summers herself, this Klark would be around twenty-three summers the exact age her Clarke would have been today. Which means in an alternate universe, Lexa and Clarke would have been together for five years and at that thought Lexa can feel herself slowly unravel. Something that has not happened in very a long time. 

Lexa presses her lips together to deter the unwanted emotion stirring up in her chest. Slowly she pulls her hands away from the throne’s armrests. To reground herself she slides off her charcoal ring. Firmly she squeezes it in a sweaty palm until Anya’s reassuring touch meets her shoulder.

“Klark kom Azgeda, such a fitting name for the heir. How has your clan settled in? Has there been any issues?” said Anya taking control of the conversation.

“I noticed that many are still quite tired from the journey and some have taken poorly to the heat. But thankfully with the help of our healers I believe Azgeda will find its feet again. Actually, speaking of healers, I have brought a few dozen healers and their _sekens_. It is no secret that Azgeda has lacked knowledge in this area compared to other clans and it is my wish that my people would receive the opportunity to shadow other healers during our time here.”

“I will be honest, I am not sure how receptive the other clans will be to the request, but I do not think there will not be a problem with the Skaikru assisting with this. I am sure you have already heard, but the Skaikru have very advanced knowledge in this area. With their technology, Chancellor Abby has saved many lives here on the ground. I would encourage you to reach out to her.”

Klark presses her lips together in a fine line as if laced with disgust, “Thank-you Anya, I will be sure to pay the Skaikru a visit. If there is nothing else you wish to discuss, I think I will excuse myself.”

Lexa dips her head in dismissal. She knows she should probably speak to Klark, but is prolonging it since she is not sure her voice will be strong.

Klark quickly dips into a bow, turning she makes her way to exit the tent. But to Lexa’s surprise, spins back around on her heels.

“I almost forgot.”

Klark walks towards Lexa stopping until she is only a few feet away. Taking in the heir, Lexa cannot help but map her eyes across Klark’s features. It is difficult to see her face underneath the thick warpaint, but Lexa finds herself suddenly intrigued with the mysterious person masked behind the white and black colours. Curiously, Lexa watches as the heir reaches under her cloak.

“This is for you.” Klark pulls out a small parcel neatly wrapped in white fur. “I found this in my personal library, but I think it will be of more use to you than it is to me. It was a pleasure to finally meet you Commander. I am sorry I got off on the wrong foot with your General. I hope that this hasn’t tainted your first impression too much.”

Klark extends an empty hand towards her. Out of routine, Lexa barely has time to think before her legs are acting on their own and moving towards the heir for their second formal handshake. Locking into Klark’s elbow Lexa notices a change in Klark’s eyes. Even though they still hold a certain coldness, the intensity has softened revealing a genuineness that hadn’t been there before.

Before Lexa can respond, the gift is placed into her hands and Lexa’s fingers take in the softness of the light fur. From the way the delicate hairs feel, Lexa assumes the pelt once belonged to a young rabbit – a creature very populated in Azgeda’s boarders.

“Thank yo…” Lexa’s words trail off when she realizes Klark has manage to slip away unnoticed. She turns towards Anya, who looks equally as curious about the gift hidden underneath the fur. Gently untying the white leather cord Lexa carefully unwraps the bundle.

Pulling back the fur she uncovers a hardcover book with a note tacked to its face. Lexa’s eyes trace the curves of the heir’s penmanship; a cursive possessing much elegance. Lexa never knew writing could look so beautiful as most notes exchanged between leaders are hardly legible at best.

_“I hope this gift will help you find your way in even the darkest of nights.”_

Lexa’s fingers trail up the spine to further inspect the gift. There is no doubt this book has survived many years and the slight discolouration of its deep blue cover gives further evidence of its age. Slowly peeling off the note, her breath catches while reading the title: _“What we see in the stars: An illustrated tour of the night sky.”_

Lexa blinks away unwanted tears. Almost every cloudless night since the death of her _houman_ , she has found herself alone on top of the Commander’s tower staring up at the stars. The routine is always the same. Lexa rolls out the same furs they had once shared and starting in the north she works her way south. She goes through the stars until Lexa finds every constellation Clarke had once shown her. It has been an almost therapeutic practice that has helped Lexa survive her darkest nights.

She knows Titus would skin her alive if he knew she was wasting so many evenings dwelling into the past, but she can’t help it. It is the only way Lexa feels she can keep herself connected to Clarke’s spirit. In fact, many nights have been spent just simply talking to the stars in the hopes that wherever Clarke’s spirit has gone, it can still hear her in the next realm.

Lexa opens the book and flips through the pages. The soft breeze from the paper’s movement brings a smell reminding her of Polis’ own library. The book is incredible thoughtful, but Lexa cannot help but feel a slight sense of concern.

“How… how can she possibly know how important the stars are to me Anya?”

Anya takes the book into her own hands and a perplexed look crosses her face as well.

“I don’t know. No one has access to the top floor other than your most trusted and a few house staff, unless…”

Lexa’s eyes widen in realization. A slight wave of insecurity washes over her at the thought that someone else is aware of her vulnerability. This is worse than she could imagine.

“We have an Azgeda loyalist working in my inner circle.”

“What could one possibly gain from knowing what you do at night?” questions Anya.

“To learn of your enemy’s weaknesses can be valuable if you wish to see their demise. What should be more of a concern is what other secrets has this spy revealed to Azgeda? Perhaps Indra’s actions were not as unwarranted as we had initially thought.”

“But why give us any indication that Azgeda has an insider amongst us? Why lose their advantage?”

Lexa leans back onto her throne to process her thoughts. Out of habit she grabs her dagger and begins twirling it through her fingers.

“It could be many things Anya, perhaps there is no malicious intentions at play here. Maybe it is a mere coincidence. An unlikely one but we both have seen things we all thought to be impossible come to fruition. We should not presume the worst until we get more evidence. But I have not lived to be the longest ruling Commander on luck alone. I have learnt to trust my instincts and I cannot help but feel there is a darker scheme working in our midst.”

“What of the heir? Do you trust her?”

“I do not know. I believe she is incredibly dangerous, but I also feel we know too little of her to make any serious assumptions. Klark appears to be very controlled; her emotions are well concealed behind those stone like features. I fear finding out who this girl is will be difficult and will require a great deal of patience.”

“I agree. So where should we start?”

“From the beginning. What do we know about the village of Ironoak Anya?”

“Truthfully I did not even know it existed until Klark mentioned it being destroyed by raiders.”

“Precisely. I think our first clue to Klark is finding more about her origins. Anya I’m going to need you to find out how and who destroyed this village. I believe this information will be useful. At the same time, I will do some investigating. Starting when I thank Klark for the gift as her reaction could prove to be very insightful.”

Lexa leans further back into the seat of her throne. Every fibre in her being screams to not to trust the winter wolf, but underneath all her rational concerns there is a slight glimmer of curiosity. She doesn’t know why, but there is something about the idea of Klark that draws Lexa in like a magnetic pull.

It is a strange feeling and Lexa can’t stop herself from wanting to risk it all just to find out why there is this strange force drawing her to the heir. Lexa knows Klark is dangerous and she must be careful. But Klark is an enigma Lexa is going to solve one way or another – even if it means she must dance with death.


	22. Differences Aside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To put her people's interest first, Klark must swallow a bitter pill and meet with the Skaikru's Chancellor. Personal feelings aside, if it means her people's future will be be bettered, she won't hesitate to confront the people she hates the most.

**_KLARK_ **

Together Klark and her two generals slowly proceed towards the Skaikru camp. Considering her history, Klark does not want to meet these sky people, but she knows this will only better her people's future. Gripping her horse’s reigns tighter the leather burns into the groves of her hands. But as much as it annoys her, her personal feelings must be set aside.

Klark adjusts her grip and reflects on the meeting she just had with Heda. She will admit the interaction with the General was slightly more dramatic than necessary. Thankfully the tensions from her and Indra’s performance have been eased over. But Klark suspects any future interactions with Indra will be anything but friendly.

On the other hand, Klark is unsure of her first impressions of the Commander. The intensity of Heda was as expected but as the meeting progressed Heda seemed to slowly turn to stone. It was as if she became a marble statue on top her throne. It is quite possible that Heda was in some sort of discomfort or perhaps tired from a sleepless night. Being a leader herself, Klark knows the burden of entertaining an audience when not feeling right.

There have been many times when Klark has had to lead meetings for Nia while feeling unwell. Regardless if it was physical or emotional pain, as a leader she had to use all means to suppress it to perform her duties first. So seeing the Commander display such symptoms, Klark has ironically become a little sympathetic.

Klark shakes her head at the thought. How could she let herself become soft towards her target? But just as quickly as the thought comes, Klark reminds herself it is good to feel sometimes. Nia may teach otherwise, but emotions have their place. And it’s not that these feelings have compromised her task. Klark would never trust the Commander, but if anything, Heda has gained a little more respect in Klark’s eyes today.

Maybe Klark’s gift has made the Commander feel better? As soon as the thought crosses Klark’s mind, she quickly shuts it down. The Commander may have gained a little more respect, but she is not here to make friends. Plus, if the Commander did like the gift why would Klark care anyways? It was not even her idea. If anyone deserves praise it should be her mother.

It was Nia who instructed Klark to give the book. Which had surprised Klark at first because why would Nia give a gift when all she wants is Alexandra’s head. But after some thought Klark realized it was meant to serve as some sort of implicit message. Which is why Klark was hesitant to give the book in the first place. It annoys Klark that whatever Nia’s hidden agenda is Nia chooses to keep it concealed. If Klark is to successfully assassinate Heda, then why would Nia not want Klark to know every single detail about the target? Klark grinds her teeth. She is in no place to question her mother, but it’s instances like this when Nia’s secrecy frustrates her.

In the past Klark has never hesitated to kill; if Nia ordered it, it was done. But after today’s meeting there is something in Klark’s mind that is holding her back from fully committing to the idea of the Commander’s death. Which is surprising of course, because the plan is perfect: after the war, return to Polis, kill the Commander, Ontari ascends, and Azgeda rules all. Is this not the best course of action for her people? Logically yes, which is why Klark is fighting so hard against the strange sensation telling her otherwise.

Klark grinds her teeth again, but this time her frustration is not directed towards her mother. Rather at this strange intuition gnawing at her chest. Klark wants nothing more than to numb it away and focus on Nia’s task. But then again, she has never been one to ignore her instincts. She adjusts her horse’s reigns again as she weighs her options.

Klark exhales with a little more force than necessary. She can’t believe she is doing this, but it has been decided. If she is going to kill the Commander, Klark wants to know everything there is to know about Heda before swinging the sword. This way Klark can decide if the Commander’s death is actually best for her people’s future and not just her mother trying to force a prophecy.

The horse beneath Klark slows, pulling her from her thoughts. Looking up, the first thing she notices about the Skaikru area is the unique way they have chosen to setup their camp. Tents are haphazardly placed with no apparent thought to defense or organization. Klark laughs to herself. If this is foreshadowing their fighting skills, she hopes Azgeda is no where near these people in battle. Well unless she wishes to be flanked by the enemy.

It appears their arrival has caused a disruption among the sky people as not so subtle whispers can be overheard. Klark rolls her eyes, so much for hospitality. When the three dismount Klark looks around with slight confusion as the sky people have no place to tie their horses. What strange people. If she weren’t annoyed already, she is now. 

“I will stay with them,” said General Leo as if reading Klark’s thoughts. “These ignorant Skaikru have an interesting way of greeting important guests.”

Klark nods in agreement. It is surprising that other than the loud whispers, no one has come to greet them. If this is the hospitality they are going to receive, they might as well stop wasting time and barge in to find the Chancellor themselves.

Walking to the centre of the encampment Klark notices a white tent with a red cross on it. She is perplexed about the strange red symbol, but due to the size of the tent, Klark figures this must be where the Chancellor resides.

As they near the tent Beorn quickly draws his sword. A young man wearing strange looking armour strides towards them. In his hands he carries a large Skaikru weapon and Klark feels herself tense as he points the barrel towards her. If it were a sword, Klark would not hesitate to put this man in his place. But this weapon is something else entirely and Klark would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little scared. Feelings she would dare not display, so instead she straightens her spine in challenge. 

“Can I help you grounder?”

Klark takes in the handsome young man before her. His dark curls sweep across his forehead and from the matureness of his face Klark figures he is only about a year or two older than she is. 

“I am here to see your Chancellor.”

“She is busy preparing for the council meeting. So no, you cannot see her.”

“And how do you know your Chancellor’s wishes? Has she commanded you not to permit visitors?”

“Well does it matter what she commands? I am second in charge of her armies, so I think I have a pretty good idea of what she would want.”

“But you are not first, so please move aside so I can meet someone who is actually in charge.”

The man brings the gun up into his sights aiming it directly at Klark’s head. If she is to get the respect she desires, she knows she cannot back down. Meeting his dark cocoa eyes, she issues a silent _‘I dare you’_ challenge. To test his bluff, Klark takes a few steps closer, but to her surprise the smell of alcohol wafts from his breath. Klark bites the inside of her cheek. This man is drunk which means he is dangerously unpredictable.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you grounder. What do you think you are some sort of princess?”

To Beorn’s dismay, Klark suddenly gets a spur of adrenaline. Smirking slightly, she decides to test him further just as she had done Indra earlier this morning. After two slow strides Klark is close enough that the barrel of the weapon now rests on her forehead. It is the second reckless move she has done today but wants to prove to these whispering Skaikru that Azgeda is not the weak clan it once was.

“Or what? You’re going to shoot me for requesting a meeting with your leader? Where I come from people tend to treat guests with hospitality not death threats. So I am going to ask again, where is your Chancellor.”

“Bellamy! Stand down?!” Klark remains with the gun rested on her forehead but shifts her stare to see a girl, in similar styling of a Trikru warrior, running towards them. The warrior with raven coloured braids quickly pushes the gun towards the ground. “Bel, what the actual fuck are you doing?”

“Well for one this grounder thinks she can stroll into our camp like a little princess and demand an audience with Abby. Which I have told her is not happening because Abby is preparing for the council meeting.”

“And you think you have such authority to deny such a request?”

“I am second in comm-”

“Was!” The raven-haired warrior interrupts. “I shouldn’t have to remind you, you had all your titles stripped when you decided becoming a reckless drunk was your path. And where did you get that gun? You know what, it doesn’t matter!” Ripping the gun away the girl slings it over her own shoulder. “You are such an idiot sometimes, but at least you had the princess part right. Bel please properly introduce yourself to the heir of Azgeda.”

Klark stops her _‘I told you so,’_ grin from forming but rather decides to intensify her stare. A choice that provides immense satisfaction when the man named Bellamy gulps as his skin pales.

“I am sorry princess. I was just concerned that you were here to cause trouble.”

“I accept your apology. But I am glad you have taken the time to show me what kind of greetings the Skaikru prefer. If you should find yourself in my camp, I am sure we will return the favour.” Klark gestures to her general, “Isn’t that right General Beorn?”

“Without hesitation my _kwin_.”

“I will take it from here Bellamy. Please just go and drink some water.” The warrior shoves Bellamy away. Once he is out of earshot the warrior turns back to Klark. “I am sorry for my brother’s behaviour. Life on the ground has not been so kind to him. I am Octavia kom Trikru, it is nice to finally meet Azgeda’s _kwin._ ”

“Please just Klark is fine. I know it is none of my business, but your brother is Skaikru, but you are of Trikru?”

“Yes. My bonded is from the Trikru clan, so I have taken his tribe’s name. Which I prefer anyways since I have always felt more connected to the ground than the sky.”

“But you are here?” Klark’s eyebrows furrow with slight confusion. “Staying at this camp even if you are Trikru?”

“I guess it does sound a little confusing. But yes, it is a little complicated but long story short Lincoln and I have chosen to stay here. Over the years we have helped my people integrate with the other clans and did we ever need it. Living in the sky all those years made it hard for some to see the ways of the ground.”

Klark ponders on Octavia’s words. She would never usually ask so many questions, but even as much as Klark hates these Skai people, she still cannot help but feel awestruck that they once lived among the stars.

“I have heard about your life in the sky. When I look up at the stars, I cannot fathom that there is another world behind the darkness of the night. Do you miss it?”

“Oh goodness no, I had a terrible life up there. I never got to experience it much because families were only allowed to have one child. I spent most of my life living in a crawl space. So the ground was the first time I could finally be free.”

“How many years has it been since your station fell? Just over five?”

“Yes, something like that. But I was part of the hundred delinquents that dropped earlier, so I did not come down with the others.”

Klark ponders again on Octavia’s words. She never remembers being taught about a smaller drop. If her memory serves her right, she can only recall the ark and farm station. One hit the ground near the mountain and the other in Azgeda near her old village.

“Please forgive my ignorance, but I did not realize there was an earlier drop. How did you survive with so few?”

A small laugh escapes Octavia.

“Oh flip we barely did! We were all so young and naïve. I honestly can’t believe we didn’t die within the first few days. We landed a few miles from Mount Weather right in the middle of Trikru’s territory. The grounders were pissed, and rightfully so. There was one day three hundred of General Anya’s best attacked us. Luckily, we managed to defend ourselves. After a few more dramatic events we finally forged an alliance with the Commander and then a few weeks after the mountain fell, we were sworn in as the twelfth clan.”

“So, you are telling me that a group of young children managed to persuade the Commander for peace?”

Octavia’s shoulders slightly slump at the question, “Well truthfully ninety-nine of us were running around clueless, but there was one who orchestrated everything. She is the mastermind who deserves all the credit. She was a very gifted leader, incredibly selfless, and wise well beyond her years. Honestly, our whole existence today is owed to her. Without her I am sure the Commander would have slaughtered us all.”

This new information is remarkably interesting to Klark. She wonders why she has not heard about this leader before. Or if she had, why she can’t remember hearing about her. But what Klark finds herself most curious about is how this Skai girl was able to gain such favour with Heda. Such information could be useful to Klark’s task.

“So, this Skai girl.”

“Clarke, her name was Clarke.”

 _Cl-cl-arrk arrrk._ Klark tries to replay the name in her head. It is very similar to hers, but the way Octavia has clicked the letters it sounds completely different than how the ground pronounces Klark.

“Actually, it is our version of your name. It just sounds different because we put emphasis on different points.”

“And this Clarke has become friends with Heda?” questions Klark.

“I guess you would call it something like that. She had a way with people, everyone was instantly drawn into her charisma. She sacrificed so much so we didn’t have to and because of it she lost her life.”

“Oh? Well I am sorry for your loss. Did she pass recently?”

“No, it has been over five years now. You must have heard about Wanheda?”

“Yes, Wanheda’s powers destroyed the mountain. Her reign over death was short lived. Because if I remember my teachings correctly, Wanheda’s soul was released to another shortly after the victory. But what does this have to do with Clarke?”

“Everything. Clarke was Wanheda and because of it her life was taken.”

“Did they ever find out who?”

“No, there were a few suspects, but nothing ever came of it and I doubt anything ever will. At one time I was really pushing for more answers, but I had been commanded to forget it because _the dead are gone, and the living are hungry_.” Octavia reaches for the tent flap gesturing for Klark to step inside. “Anyways here we are. Come, I will introduce you to Chancellor Abby. Oh and Klark? I should warn you Clarke was Abby’s daughter. It would be best to keep any Wanheda questions to yourself.”

* * *

**_OCTAVIA_ **

As Octavia holds the tent flap open, she can’t help but admire Klark as she passes through. Octavia likes to consider herself to be tough, but this heir is at a completely different level of badass. Octavia can tell by the way Klark carries herself that she would be amazing to spar against and she can’t help but hope it will happen in the future. But that will be another day, for now Octavia’s focus is making sure Klark doesn’t receive anymore hostile welcomes.

A few minutes before the heir had arrived Anya informed Octavia of an assignment from Heda. It’s not too complicated, but Octavia must observe the heir. And if possible, get to know Klark in the hopes of finding anything about her mysterious nature. Anya warned that this mission must be done with upmost secrecy and to be careful as Klark has proven to be incredibly smart.

Anya did brief Octavia on what Klark looked like, but even if Octavia did not receive Anya’s descriptions, she would have known immediately who Klark was. Besides the intense warpaint, Klark’s armour and weaponry alone are a dead giveaway. It wreaks of wealth and importance, something the Blake siblings will never know. Which is why she worries so much for her brother. Had he been that drunk he couldn’t even comprehend that Klark was not just any grounder?

Octavia knows she should be easier on him. Bel has had a hard time trusting anyone since Clarke was taken and it has impacted him more than he is willing to admit. Octavia feels for him. She misses Clarke considerably too, but his drinking has gotten so out of control he is turning into a loose cannon. If Octavia had not reached them in time, no number of guns could protect them from the wrath Azgeda would unleash. A thought that sends a shudder down Octavia’s spine.

Walking into the council area Octavia can feel many questioning eyes burning into the pair. Crossing her fingers, Octavia can only hope this reception will go better. Here goes nothing.

“Chancellor Abby, please let me introduce to you Klark kom Azgeda. One of the Azgeda’s princesses and heir to the throne.”

Octavia holds her breath when she notices Abby’s face briefly line with sadness. When it is clear the Chancellor has composed herself, Octavia quietly excuses herself. Spotting an empty chair by the back-wall Octavia plops next to Raven, whose knee is elevated while busily tinkering on a broken radio.

Raven had been making good progress with the old injury, but unfortunately relapsed a few months ago when she fell from a ladder. And now Raven is back to square one, but as always, she remains positive. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you Klark. I was hoping we would have the chance to meet before the Commander’s war meeting tomorrow. Here let me take your cloak, it is quite warm in this tent.”

When Clarke pulls off her cloak, Octavia’s eyes are immediately drawn to the mixture of tattoos and large battles scars cascading down pale arms. It is no secret that the Azgeda have questionable training methods. So it wouldn’t be a surprise if many of these wounds are a result of both training and battle.

What Octavia finds herself most intrigued with is Klark’s collection of tattoos. From what Octavia can tell most are ancient Azgedian patterns. But what holds Octavia’s attention the most, is the beautiful wolf tattoo that takes up the entire top surface of Klark’s left hand.

“Likewise. I too have been waiting a long time to make this acquaintance.”

Raven’s head immediately shoots up from the radio. With a puzzled look she stares intently towards the conversation between Abby and Klark.

“Well I am glad we have finally made it happen. What can I do for you Klark?”

“I was talking to the Commander today and I hear you are a very talented healer. It is my hope that you would be willing to allow a few of my own healers shadow your work. That is of course if your clan would be willing to share its secrets.”

“It will be no problem. I have always believed that such knowledge should be shared. However, I do warn our methods are not conventional to other grounder standards, but I promise they are effective. If this is okay with you, then I am certain we can make the arrangement work.”

“Thank you, Chancellor. Azgeda has lacked knowledgeable healers for too long and I believe any knowledge they learn will be better than nothing. When should I sent some over?”

“How about after tomorrow’s meeting? That will give me enough time to brief the rest of the council and my apprentices.”

“Very good. Thank you, Chancellor.”

As the Chancellor and Heir continue to talk, Octavia turns her attention back to Raven who is continuing to gawk at the conversation. The stare is so intense, that even Octavia feels uncomfortable.

“Raven what are you doing. I mean can you tone it down a bit, you look super snoopy.” 

“Do you not hear that?”

“Hear what? All I can hear is your hot air breathing into my ear.”

“Her voice.”

“Whose voice? Abby’s? Yah I know it’s a little shaky. I mean I figured she would be a little off when she heard Klark’s name, but surprisingly she is doing much better than I thought she wou-”

“No, you idiot. The heir’s voice. The husk is so similar to how _hers_ was…”

Octavia returns to the conversation and immediately her eyes widen. Even with the slight Azgedian accent, there is no doubt that Klark’s voice is eerily like what Clarke’s had been – or at least to how Octavia remembers it to be.

Octavia was so uptight with the way her brother almost killed Klark that Octavia didn’t even take a second to listen to Klark’s voice. If she had, she probably would have picked up on the similarities too. Or at least likes to think she would of.

“Creepy…. She does sound like Clarke, but like an accented Clarke.”

“Totally. I know this makes me sound crazy, but it comforts me. Like to hear a voice like _hers_ , it makes me feel kind of whole again. Do you think I could hire the heir to read to me at night?”

“Uh keep dreaming. I think you can see Klark does not need anymore money. Like do you see all those diamonds in her breastplate. And dam, do not get me started on those blades!” Octavia lowers her voice to avoid being caught fangirling, “see the way the metal catches the light? They are one hundred percent made from IIlok ore. Klark is lavish Rey. I think it will take a little more than a few cooper coins to persuade her.”

“So, like sexual favours then? No one can resist me. I bet after one spin in the furs, Klark would make me her queen.”

Octavia softly punches Raven’s arm; her ego is so suffocating sometimes.

“You are unbelievable, how do you even know Klark would be into you?”

“Well one, everyone is into me. And two, she’s giving me the vibes.”

“I am pretty sure everyone gives you the vibes.”

“Like I said O, everyone is into me.”

“How about you just be normal for once and just introduce yourself?”

“What, you want me to waltz into their camp and ask her to be my friend? We both know I would probably be skinned alive!”

“Well after Bel threatened to blow her head off, I can imagine your welcome won’t be the most receptive. How about after they are done. I can help a sister out and introduce you to your new reading buddy.”

“Fuck off. I just miss _her_ okay.”

“I know. I’m being an ass, I’m sorry Reyes.”

When Raven goes back to tinkering, Octavia knows their conversation is done. So instead of pushing Raven to talk further Octavia directs her attention back to the two leaders.

“Yes, I am sure we can arrange for such trade routes. I know the winter months can complicate the trade schedule, but I think we can try to double our fur shipments starting in the fall.”

“Great, we had a fur shortage last year and I would hate to have the same.”

“Chancellor, sorry to deter away from trading…but I have been meaning to ask. Could you tell me more about the farm station. They landed separately right?” questions Klark.

“That is correct. When the whole station dropped, the farm section broke off and landed in your territory. I am sure you remember? Your people gratuitously allowed them to pass through to reach Arkadia. It took them some time, but eventually they made their way down and found us days after the mountain fell.”

“That is right. I am sorry the details are a little hazy. I wasn’t well at the time and only really remember the reports.” Klark lines her lips into a fine line as if taking in the information. “Who was the leader of the farm station again?”

“General Pike. I believe I had introduced him to your Queen at Azgeda’s Coalition feast many years ago.”

“And will General Pike be at the meeting tomorrow?”

“Yes. He and Marcus will be there. Is there any reason you want to speak to him?”

“No. This is the first time I have left Azgeda’s borders, so I just want to make the most of my time and meet as many leaders as possible before I return. Knowing faces will be very useful once I take the throne.” Klark abruptly reaches for her cloak, “but if you would excuse me Chancellor, I have a few other duties I must see to before I retire for the evening. Once again thank you for your generosity. My healers will be very happy to learn from such a skilled individual.” 

“And thank you for considering expanding your trade routes. Octavia? Please escort Klark back to her generals.”

Immediately Octavia nudges Raven on the shoulder pulling the mechanic towards Klark.

“Klark? I should introduce you to one of our Council members, this is Raven kom Skaikru. Arkadia’s best engineer. If you want anything blown up, she is your girl.”

“Blown up?”

“yah you know KA-BOOM.” Raven animatedly gestures an explosion with her hands. An action that immediately embarrasses Octavia. Had she known Raven would have been so immature in the heir’s presence Octavia would have avoided this introduction entirely. Before Octavia can stop Raven from talking further, Raven continues, “So when you are looking for some entertainment, come find me and I will tell you all about it.”

Octavia sinks further into embarrassment when Raven flashes the Heir a sultry like wink. She cringes internally. After today the Skaikru are never going to be taken seriously.

“It sounds like you have interesting talents Raven. I look forward to hearing all about these so-called explosions. But I really must run. Thanks again Chancellor, I look forward to working together. It was nice meeting you too Raven.”

As they turn to leave Raven subtly coughs and Octavia is no stranger to its meaning. Glancing over her shoulder, Octavia sees Raven making a terrible attempt to mouth words to her.

“ _What?”_ Octavia silently mouths back.

Raven points to her temple and proceeds to mouth again, “ _O..M..G her eyes. Look at Klark’s eyes._ ”

This time Octavia understands. _Her eyes!_ Octavia shakes her head. It is a good thing they are not spies or they would be pretty much useless. Any longer Klark would have no doubt caught them in the act.

As soon as they exit the tent, the massive General straightens his spine to show his attentiveness. When Klark turns towards Octavia, Octavia does just as Raven instructed and takes in the unique cerulean blue.

“Thank you Octavia kom Trikru for your friendliness,” said Klark extending her arm towards Octavia, “I look forward to seeing you over the next few days.”

With Klark’s elbow locked in Octavia’s hand, all Octavia can do is muster a dumbfounded nod. Because for the first time in five years Octavia feels like she is being haunted by the ghost of Clarke.


	23. A History Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Beorn reflects on what his kwin means to his and Azgeda's future. Meanwhile Klark begins to question Nia's teachings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! So while I was editing this chapter, I realized it may not be the excitement we all want for a weekend. Yes, it provides good context, but come on it's the weekend. We all want some excitement right? So anyways I decided to drop two chapters this weekend (one today and one tomorrow). For those who have subscribed, I apologize in advance for spamming your email with notifications. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. Have a great weekend everyone - LMS

**_BEORN_ **

The sun’s warmth hits Beorn’s face as he watches his _kwin_ quickly navigate through their camp. By the steady pace and her direction, Klark is most likely heading towards her brother’s black tent. A tent no where near the size of her own, but it is still generous enough compared to the rest of the ice warriors.

As Klark walks each warrior she passes stops their duties and dips their head deep with respect. Five years ago when Beorn had travelled with, well more like stole, Clarke from Polis he never would have guessed this Klark would become someone so significant to him and his people.

Out of all Nia’s royals, Beorn is ironically the closest to Klark. Which isn’t such a surprise because he has spent many hours with her. At first Beorn had been assigned to assist Klark with learning military strategy. It was his job to teach basic knowledge of Azgeda’s ranking and different classes of warriors. Klark had been an exceptional student. Always eager to learn and she was very receptive to the information he taught her.

Many evenings Beorn found Klark sitting in the royal library, deeply submerged in a variety of military books from the old world. He remembers her taking a liking to one specific book. He can’t remember the name of it, but it had something to do with an ancient Empire. Klark did tell him once, but he has never been good at remembering names.

Eventually it wasn’t long before the student surpassed the teacher. When Klark became heir she started to incorporate her research into Azgeda’s army. The generals, including himself, all had been hesitant at first. But once they saw how her suggestions improved their warriors, they never questioned her ability again.

Beorn knows the army that marched to Heda’s war camp looks very different than the one who fought against Heda many years ago. It's not just him who has noticed this change either. There has been many reports of whispers spreading among the clans fearing the ‘new’ army that has answered Heda’s call. Fears that make his chest fill with pride. This campaign will be the last time Azgeda will be viewed as less than and it is all thanks to his Heir.

But he knows Klark’s praise does not come without a personal cost. Klark of course would dare not say, but over the years he can tell the weight of Azgeda’s expectations have become a heavy burden on her shoulders. He’s sure there are many days the young heir would like to slip away from the spotlight, but due to her fame it is near impossible to go anywhere without eyes following her.

It makes him feel slightly sorry for the girl. Especially since Klark never really had a choice in how the last five years have turned out for her. What if he hadn’t completed Nia’s task? If the choice had been Klark’s, would she have desired for a simpler life? Beorn shakes his head at the thought. If she had stayed as Clarke, Beorn believes her life would be just as much, if not more in the public eye.

Until now, Klark has only been mere whispers among the other clans. But if she were still Clarke, the attention she would receive would be tenfold. Her life would have been a precedent; in all grounder history no one has even been _houman_ to a Heda. It would be a demanding life; one lived among political chaos and public opinions. In a sense his actions have saved Klark from a life of constant scrutiny. Or that’s what he tells himself anyways.

If he had the opportunity to relive the moment he stole Clarke, selfishly Beorn would not hesitate to do it again. He has grown to love Klark. Not in a romantic sense by any means, but from admiration. She is like his daughter, and out of the many monarchs Azgeda has had, Klark is by far the more favored.

Her outward appearance may be one of ice, but the subtle deeds she does for her people do not go unnoticed. Unlike past leaders, the people know Klark has devoted her life to the prosperity of Azgeda. She protects all people as if they are her own blood. Countless times Beorn has witnessed how she chooses to risk her own life instead of demanding her warriors to face the danger themselves. It’s characteristics like this that have gained her the loyalty of Azgeda’s warriors and the common people.

Nia has tried countless times to condition out Klark’s innate sense of compassion and selflessness. But eventually Nia realized that these traits were so rooted, no amount of reprogramming would eliminate the original Clarke.

Beorn has realized that after many years of suffering from vicious rulers, this is probably not such a bad thing for the ice nation. The ice nation has had a long history of ruthless, corrupt leaders, all who prioritized their own life of luxury before the needs of the people. And to remain in power, many have ruled with an iron first

At his age of fifty summers, Beorn has seen how this selfish mentality has made Azgeda’s quality of life much less advanced compared to the other clans. Over the years those who live near the larger settlements and capital city have had some what of an economy driving up the meager quality of life. But the living conditions can be problematic at times for populations residing in the smaller, more rural villages.

During the frigid winter months, these areas not only fight off the plummeting temperatures but also tend to suffer large death tolls. Primarily from immense starvation due to inadequate food supply from poor harvests and death of malnourished livestock.

As a result, the throne has had its fair share of rebellions. Azgeda’s history is full of people rallying together in efforts to overthrow the monarch in the hopes of improving the quality of life. And within the last hundred years, there have been at least seventy known attempts to dismantle the throne. There was a close call when Nia’s father, Theo, ruled. Beorn remembers reading over the details in a dusty historical journal he once found on the library’s top shelf.

It had mentioned that villagers started to meet at a local mill in the village of Othrog – a small, isolated area very close to Azgeda’s Great Lake region. Eventually the following had grown into such a substantial size the rebellion named itself the Red Wolf. The intent behind the name was to relate to the prophecy about the winter wolf rising to rid the earth of all corruption. The movement gained such momentum that the rebellion’s red emblem was seen from all corners of the Ice nation.

After many attempts to overthrow the Monarch, King Theo eventually gained control of the situation. This had been done by capturing five of the seven Red Wolves’ key leaders. After these leaders all suffered deaths so gruesome not even the journal dared to contain the details, the rebellion scattered and lost its momentum.

A few years later both Beorn and Nia were only sixteen summers when Nia succeeded her father’s throne. And when she took the crown, the memories of the Red Wolf rebellion still lingered freshly in her mind. As a young teen the fear of being strung up naked from the gates had traumatized Nia so much, she vowed to create an empire that wouldn’t think twice about overthrowing her birth right. And Nia has done just that.

During the first year of Nia’s reign, much of Azgeda’s snow was stained a deep red as Nia “cleansed” the nation from all those who posed any ounce of threat to her throne. She may have looked like a young naïve queen, but the people soon learnt that Nia was not to be underestimated.

Over the years Nia has kept her power by using fear to hold loyalty. Anyone caught speaking of a rebellion or even ill of her name is subject to an execution of her own choosing. Nia’s methods are known to be so brutal, even the largest of warriors grow faint at heart when she is in their midst.

But unlike the monarchs before her, Nia is smart. She knows fear is not enough to secure her rule, so she manipulates life’s basic needs. If her people have the necessities of life met, they will be less inclined to revolt. To assist with this, she has appointed village leaders to oversee food distribution. But when Nia’s warriors deliver supplies, she is always sure to strategically ration just enough to keep bellies quiet, but not too much they forget who holds control. Beorn remembers Nia telling him once that it would be foolish to bite the hand that feeds them. So far, her tactics have kept the masses at bay. But there is another thing that has helped her secure power. And ironically, it’s hope.

Nia has told Beorn countless times what had sprung the Red Wolf followers into action: the prophecy for a better future. Since the crown was placed on her head, she uses that same old Azgedian prophecy to distract the people from the below average conditions they live in.

Ironically, what started out as a distraction attempt has made Nia so engrossed with the prophecy herself, it has become her own obsession to decode it. Countless shamans have been called into the capital to try to decipher its meaning. And Beorn himself has watched Nia become so consumed with its words. It has come to the point that Nia will spend days in isolation thinking how certain decisions will fit into the prophecy. Many would say Nia is beginning to lose her mind, but regardless of what the critics say her methods have made her the longest ruling monarch in Azgeda’s history.

Lucky, Nia has only had to stop one failed rebellion. The intent wasn’t to overthrow Nia, but to divide a part of Azgeda into its own separate territory. Thankfully Klark was already in Nia’s service and proved to be a key player in stopping the separatists from getting out of hand.

Beorn remembers the day the uprising was abruptly stopped. They had received reports that the separatist army was hiding in the valley, so Nia sent out a small party to neutralize the threat.

He had ridden behind Klark and the other _Bloka_ that morning. If he remembers correctly, the morning sunrise was very eerie. Freshly fallen snow covered the landscape and the trees in the horizon were mostly hidden by a thick morning fog – a phenomenon that usually occurs when temperatures plummet well beyond freezing. By the time they reached the top of the valley the fog slightly lifted and revealed a separatist force below that outnumbered theirs at least four to one. He remembers how his heart stopped when he realized Nia had underestimated the threat. This was not the battle they excepted.

_“Klark, we should turn back and gather more troops. Mother would understand, she would not want to lose all four of her children today.”_

Demetri was the first to break the silence. Beorn had agreed, the proposal was tempting. Why die in a valley below if they could return in a few hours with a force much larger to take out this threat?

 _“Brother, do you not remember who has trained those warriors below? The generals who all ride at our backs! This enemy is not a stranger to us, we know how they will fight. Sure, we don’t have the numbers, but we are surrounded by the best warriors Azgeda has ever seen. What do you think mother would do to us if we ran back to her like a wolf with its tail between its legs? I think we all would prefer a death in the valley below than one in the bear pits. This is the first time our people get to see us in action. This isn’t a time for fear but for celebration”_ Klark’s words casted the fear out of Beorn. It was the first time the _bloka_ would showcase their skills against a threat of such magnitude. And if the _Bloka_ couldn’t win, then no other army would either.

 _“My people, my warriors,”_ continued Klark, _“This morning our Queen has selected only her best to protect her territories. If you feel that you would rather return to the safety of your home, go now and I will not question it. However, if you choose to stay and ride down into the valley with me, I promise to be the shield that will protect you until your last breath. So, I will ask again, who is with me?”_

Not one warrior had stepped out of line. But of course, they would have been foolish too. Klark had promised not to harm them, but everyone knew Ontari would never allow such dishonour to live to see another sunrise.

It then happened so fast, Klark spun her horse around and charged down into the valley. The _bloka_ was at her side and the small army at her back. When the _bloka_ reached striking distance, all dismounted on the fly and began slaughtering through the surprised separatists. 

It was the first time most people got to witness the four fighting in battle together. Beorn remembers how almost majestic and cohesive their movements had been. But as uniformed as they moved, Demetri, Echo, and Ontari only had one goal and it was to protect the soon to be named heir – no doubt an order Nia issued herself.

When Klark had her left exposed, Demetri was there to stop any blows. When it was her right, Ontari had stepped in, and not once did Echo falter to protect Klark’s back. The three warriors were indeed talented, but Beorn remembers how it was Klark that caused the rebels to fill with fear. Yielding dual blades with such deadly precision, not a single warrior that fought against her had a chance. 

Soon many dropped their weapons as they watched how the princess cut through fellow rebels as if they were young, untrained _sekens_. It took took less then thirty minutes for the battlefield to fall to their knees. Soon the chants of the _Wintam_ _Pakstoka_ , Azgeda’s long awaited savior, echoed through the bloodstained valley. Even to this day, many warriors still talk about how this battle was the day they witnessed the true winter wolf rise to devour her prey among the ice. Since then, no one doubts that Klark is their saviour. 

_“Crash!”_

Beorn is pulled from his thoughts when a loud noise makes him jump. He looks behind him to see a small, embarrassed _seken_ who has somehow managed to drop a handful of pots. When his eyes narrow in discipline for such carelessness, she quickly gathers the pots and makes an escape towards the kitchen. Beorn shakes his head, young _sekens_ are just like foals. Too clumsy and too skittish for their own good.

* * *

**_KLARK_ **

“So I see you have already made yourself at home?”

With the tip of her sword, Klark lifts a stray breast binding that appears to have been haphazardly discarded onto the floor. From where the bindings had been thrown, Klark can tell they were removed with much haste.

“Good morning to you too sister. I see you are in a serious mood already.”

Demetri’s deep, gentle voice meets Klark’s ears. Out of all her siblings, Demetri is by far the most relaxed. A little too relaxed sometimes, but his calm demeanor always helps to balance out Ontari’s aggressiveness, or Echo’s skepticism. Which is why Klark appreciates him so much.

“Well unlike you, I have not forgotten why we have marched all this way. While you were tossing around with some woman last night, I was preparing for this meeting. You understand this is the first time all the clans will see us together; we need to ha-”

“Yes, yes. A unite front. To showcase to the clans that Azgeda has changed and should be taken seriously. Believe me Klark, I get it. That is why I invited a few guests into my bed last night. It helps me to destress.”

“A few?!” Klark flicks the bindings towards Demetri. “And what do you think will happen when a _few_ of these guests become with child? Oh I do not know, maybe try to get some sort of nonsense claim to the throne. You know Nia would have your head for your carelessness.”

“Relax Klark, I promise I was careful. Besides, you cannot tell me you are so innocent yourself. Should I remind you what happened when we went North to handle those bandits from the desert clan? If remember your tent had been a revolving door to all sorts of men… and women. Speaking of women, I highly recommend you try out Myrina kom Flokru. She does this thing with her tongue. I am sure yo-”

“Enough! You are right. It is not my place to question who you choose to spend your evenings with. As long as you promise me you are treating all guests with respect and that you do not forget we are at war.”

“Klark you know me. I may talk big, but I would never force anyone into my tent. And I think we would agree the Glowing Forest is not our ideal place to come relax. So I won’t be forgetting about this war anytime soon. Speaking of relaxing you seem uptight. Are you sure you don’t need a good lay yourself?”

Klark throws him a glare. From the way his cheeky smile flops into a frown Klark can tell he knows not to push the issue further. It is true, she hasn’t had good sex in a while. It is not because she is short on partners – being the heir has guaranteed her a long line of eager suiters – it’s just that Klark has become more interested in quality rather than quantity. And lately there hasn’t been much of quality.

It is not that Klark is being prude because it wasn’t always this way. When she first became heir, Klark had her fair share of action. Countless men and women were bought back to Klark’s bedchambers in the hopes to fill the strange emptiness sitting in the pit of her stomach. But with every new partner her hope further diminished when she woke up next to a stranger only to feel just as lonely as the day before.

It makes Klark wonder how her sex life had been before the accident. Even though she was eighteen, she hopes that version of Klark had the wholeness Klark currently desires. Quickly Klark dismisses such thoughts. Now is not the time to dwell on such feelings, there are far more important things to focus on today. 

“I am sorry that I got upset Demetri. You have always been my rock and I should never doubt your intentions. I guess I am a little nervous for the festivities today.”

“Apology accepted.”

“So, you’re coming to the meeting with us today right?”

“Of course Klark. Like you said, I am your rock. I would hate the leaders to see how weak the heir is without her burley brother.”

Demetri gives Klark a playful wink and a warm smile forms on her lips. There is no hostility in the air, just playfulness. Because the truth is the _bloka_ would be nothing without Klark and they all know it.

“Good, touch up your war paint then put your formal wear on. Echo, Beorn and the other generals will be accompanying me to Heda’s war tent. You are to be with us when we leave.”

“Oh yes your holy and divine majesty. Whatever you say.”

Klark rolls her eyes as her towering brother dips into a ridiculous bow. Demetri may be one for theatrics, but she knows he would never treat her with such mockery if it weren’t just the two of them here. He respects her too much to disrespect Klark’s name in front of anyone. Especially since Klark has always taken the blame for his countless mischievous acts committed around the capital.

Many times Nia would be uncoiling her whip and Klark would run in front of Demetri. Taking the blame for everything. Because Klark has always been their mother’s favourite, meaning the punishment was always lessened – a mere five lashes instead of twenty-five. Demetri might be four times her size, but Klark has always protected him and for that she knows he will forever be loyal. 

“Demetri?”

“Yes Klark.”

“What are your thoughts about the Commander?”

“My thoughts? Well from the way she sits all high and mighty on her horse she looks just as arrogant as I expected. But then again, if I had as many eyes on me as she does, I probably would flaunt myself in the same way. What do you think of her?”

Klark taps her fingers on the wooden table. She is not sure what she was looking for in Demetri’s response. It’s just that yesterday Klark was surprised with how her interactions went with the Commander and the Skai people. Both were completely different than anticipated and that perplexes her.

“I do not know. It's just that when I met with Heda it was different than I had expected.”

“In what ways?”

“Do not get me wrong, there is no warmth behind those emerald eyes. But not once did I get a sense that her coldness was due to malicious or wicked intentions. She is powerful and she knows it, but at the same time I found her to be just.”

“So what you are saying is the way she rides a horse is not how she treats us lowly ice crawlers?”

“Exactly. She was not arrogant at all. I think it’s all an act.”

“Well of course it is Klark. Do you think you are any different? Our people respect you for your abilities and your status, but also because your gaze is pretty dam terrifying. And we both know that isn’t who you are. Maybe you are just picking up that the Commander isn’t as bitchy as we thought she was.”

Klark presses her lips slightly together as she organizes her thoughts. She knows she will need to choose her next words wisely in the event there is a listening ear nearby.

“I think… er, well. Do you ever question the things we have been taught?”

Demetri’s hands still, but after a brief pause, he continues to lace up his boots. From his reaction he knows what Klark is implying and it’s dangerous if someone would overhear.

“I think everything is subject to interpretation. Klark are you sure you are okay? This is the second strange question you have asked me today.”

“I’m fine. I must be nervous for the meeting. And speaking of which, you better hurry up because I am not being late this time. I’m going outside, come find us when you are done.”

The warmth of the sun greets Klark when she steps outside. As she walks towards her small party a slight prick of a lie’s guilt simmers in her stomach. Truthfully Klark could care less about the meeting. Sure, she has never met most of these leaders, but the politicking is always the same game. One that Nia has helped Klark master. But what is bothering Klark is all these small discrepancies she has been picking up on.

First it was the Commander. Klark likes to think she can read people very well. So like she had told Demetri, Klark never sensed the Commander being evil in anyway. Yet as far back as Klark can remember she has been told the Commander is just that. Then again, it was only the first impression. Maybe the Commander is just that good at deception.

But what about the Commander’s slight change in demeanour? Klark shakes her head at the memory. It doesn’t make sense; somehow behind those authoritative eyes Klark managed to sense a pain hidden deep behind those walls. If the Commander is suppose to be an embodiment of strength, then what purpose would it serve to let Klark see otherwise? It would simply not be done. The pain Klark felt was real pain and it was unintentionally exposed.

Then when she talked to Abby kom Skaikru, the Chancellor made a comment about the Farm station. Nia has always told Klark Ironoak was destroyed when Azgeda was a part of the Coalition. But if Klark remembers the story correctly, Azgeda wasn’t branded into the alliance until a month after the Mountain’s fall. Then a couple of weeks later Ironoak was destroyed.

Yet the Chancellor mentioned that the Farm station found Arkadia just days after the Mountain’s fall. Which would make this timeline to be about seven weeks prior to Nia’s teachings.

Klark knows over the years the exact dates of events can become muddled with the irrelevant details, but this time there can be no room for error. If Abby’s timeline is true, then Azgeda was not a part of the Coalition when Klark’s village was destroyed. Meaning the Commander had no reason or obligation to defend Ironoak or even get revenge for Azgeda.

How could Nia confuse these details? Surely a Queen would know the exact date her Nation was made the thirteenth? Klark clenches her jaw at these confusing thoughts. What concerns Klark the most is why would her mother hide this from her? Especially since Klark has spent so much energy hating the Commander for turning a blind eye to her slaughtered village. And what makes Klark feel sick, is that Abby’s timeline may suggest that the Commander could be completely undeserving of Klark’s hate. What purpose would…

 _“…it is time to start seeking our jus drein jus daun. After the war has been won, I want you to bring me the head of the Commander.”_ The sound of her mother’s echoing voice interrupts Klark’s thoughts. Immediately her eyes go wide with the sudden realization. It is easier to kill someone you hate than to steal the spirit from someone you respect.

Klark feels the blood leave her face. She has spent years watching Nia manipulate people and Klark has always thought if she were to become one of Nia’s victims she would know for sure. Yet here she is. Klark feels the slight sensation of embarrassment wash over her. Has she been so engrossed with her debt towards her mother that she has allowed her feelings of loyalty cloud her judgement? 

Klark tightens her jaw again. She is not backing out of her task just yet. But Klark has just affirmed that perhaps her initial instincts were right. More information is needed before her blade will ever be stained with black blood. Klark will have to be cautious over the next while. Because she won’t be seeking information on just the Commander, but it appears her mother too has some secrets. Hopefully, whatever truth Klark learns will help her know why or if Nia has lied to her. Such information will be vital for the completion of her task. 


	24. Deadly Precision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clans begin planning for the war. But with thirteen clan leaders in the same tent, it's the perfect recipe for disagreements and tense altercations. Conflict that could shatter the Coalition if pushed too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading. See you Wednesday - LMS

**_DEMETRI_ **

Demetri impatiently taps his fingers on his chair’s armrest. This meeting feels like it has been going on for an eternity. It probably doesn’t help that they arrived exceptionally early either. Well, early might be a slight exaggeration. They were the tenth clan to arrive to Heda’s tent. Klark insisted on being here sooner, but he told her that they couldn’t look too eager or the clans would think they were trying to win Heda’s approval.

After much discussion, his stubborn sister agreed. He is not sure why Klark was so worried anyways. Unlike Echo and himself, who have been practically banished to the wilderness with the lesser ranking generals, Klark has a reserved chair at the Commander’s table. A spot he is in no way jealous of.

He absolutely hates politics. He is a warrior, not a man who cares about scheming and strategy. But he promised Klark he would be here, and not once has he broken a promise to his sister. And besides, Klark is the heir. So technically he must respect her commands anyways. But even if she did not hold the title he probably would do as she wishes anyways.

Demetri would never tell Ontari, but secretly Klark is his favourite sibling. He would not think twice to step in harms way if it meant protecting her. It’s not that he isn’t loyal to the others. It’s just the connection he shares with Klark is different. Their conversations are never forced, they’re genuine, and the way Klark laughs warms his heart. It is a laugh remarkably like the one his real sister had. And for that, she instantly drew him in.

“My warriors are prepared for everything. They have been training tirelessly for this new threat! I think they should be granted the honour of the front lines of battle!”

Demetri rolls his eyes. Of course, Argo from the Broadleaf clan would demand such an honour. In fact, this is all this meeting has consisted of so far. Leaders rapidly wagging their tongues, with no rhyme or reason at all. All battling for dominance in attempts to gain recognition and perceived strength over the other leaders. It’s annoying and this childish behaviour has delayed any sorts of productive war planning. Which means there is a good chance this is not even half over yet. A thought that makes him internally cringe. All he wants to do is go back to his tent and sleep.

“Your warriors are just as weak as my young _sekens_! I say let the Blue cliff lead the way. This threat will have no chance against my warriors’ strength,” said Igor slamming his fist down onto the wooden table.

Demetri notices most leaders, except for Klark, jump from the sound. From her lack of response, it is almost as if Klark’s mind is elsewhere. Which doesn’t really surprise Demetri because she was quite quiet on their way up to this meeting. In fact, now that he thinks of it, Klark has yet to say a single word to the other clan leaders.

He watches as Klark’s eyes drift from the wooden table, up to Heda’s impassive face, and then back to the wooden table. A slight tinge of worry simmers in his stomach. His sister is never one to vocalize herself during these ridiculous political games, so her silence is normal. But what worries him the most is the look in her eye. A look he rarely sees but knows her well enough to know that something is bothering her. Making a mental note, he’ll ask her about it later.

“The Blue Cliff have been nothing but unreliable! I shouldn’t have to remind you Igor that not too long-ago your actions almost caused us a civil war!” said Lovisa gesturing animatedly to make her point. “And don’t forget the Blue Cliff arbitrary decided to cut off trade with my people! You cannot tell me that you do not have a need for fish. It was a personal attack on me, and you know it.”

“Your accusations are empty Lovisa. You have no proof of anything! Besides the Delphi should be to blame; it was them who ruined our trading trails with their pathetic ancient like wagons!”

“ _Thud!”_

A silver dagger plunges deep into the table right in front of Igor. A sound that momentarily stops all conversations. Looking down the table Demetri notices Delphi’s leader, Xavier, reaching into his cloak for another weapon. Demetri’s stomach jumps with excitement; finally, something to liven up this dull meeting. The Delphi and Blue Cliff’s rivalry has been at a peak lately. If Demetri is lucky there is a good chance this will end in bloodshed.

Igor throws his chair to the side, “Why you fuck’n little bastard. I should skin you alive for your disrespect! Prove your threats are not empty boy!” With a loud thump Igor pounds his hand hard into his own chest. “Here, let me give you an easier target. It’s not like you can hit me anyways! We all know the Delphi are nothing but dog screw’rs!” Another taunting fist meets Igor’s chest, “You’re a disgrace to this Coalition. You are a little whore exactly like your mother. And worst yet, you are weaker than your pathetic father!”

Demetri’s eyes widen as a flushed Xavier pulls his arm back to release a second dagger. With great speed the weapon is released into the air towards Igor’s chest.

 _“Clank!”_ The sound of metal colliding fills the walls of the tent. The chaos in the room momentarily ceases as stunned faces take in the sight of two daggers sliding down the length of the table. It takes a few seconds for the initial shock to wear off, but soon all eyes look to an equally surprised Commander. Quickly the Commander’s face returns to one of disciplined stoicism, but her gaze remains fixated to the opposite end of the long table.

Demetri looks back down at the two daggers and immediately recognizes the one with the bone engraved handle. He presses his lips together to supress the smirk forming on his lips. Apparently Klark had been very serious when she said she wanted to make a memorable impression.

Demetri looks over to Klark. She is still standing from her throw and is in a locked gaze with the Commander. He looks to the Commander, then back to Klark, then back to the Commander, and then back to Klark. After a few more moments it is Klark who breaks the exchange and glares intensely at the two feuding leaders. Demetri shivers slightly. This is a look he is all to familiar with and these foolish men are in for a treat.

“I think it is best if you two children sit down.” Klark gestures towards the empty chairs, “Xavier as far as I am concerned the only thing you have proven to us is your cowardness. Your carelessness could have started a civil war and for what, to prove to Igor’s corpse you are a better man than your father?”

“Hmph,” Igor sneers towards Xavier in agreeance.

“And you.” Klark’s blue eyes burn into Igor. It is a sight that creates immense satisfaction as Demetri watches Igor’s once confident stance morph into uncertainty under the weight of Klark’s stare. “My mother has always talked very highly of you Igor. She has told me you are a leader that I should respect. One that I could look to for guidance if need be. So, I am sure you can imagine my confusion when my only impression of you is nothing more than an insecure man who has no regard for his own life.” Klark carefully smooths the blue silk of her sash before continuing the interrogation, “So, what is it then Igor?”

Igor shifts uncomfortably. It is as if he is not sure if he should sit down or remain standing. With nervous fingers Igor adjusts the buckle on his belt. 

“I am afraid I do not understand. What is what?” questions Igor.

“Well, are you the man my mother has claimed you to be? Or is she a _liar_?”

The tone in Klark’s voice catches Demetri’s attention. He cannot help but notice the way her last words linger in the air as if they were laced with poison. 

“No…No the Ice Queen is not a liar; I promise I am who she says I am.”

“Good, I look forward to meeting the man I had such high expectations for. I hope I am not further disappointed.”

For the second time the tent is filled with an unnatural silence. If the eeriness of it affects Klark she doesn’t show it. After a few more moments of staring Igor down, Klark redirects her gaze back to the Commander’s questioning eyes. 

“It appears some have forgotten that we are at war. We have spent the last few hours bickering among ourselves when our attention should be on this unknown enemy. Enough is enough, we have wasted too much time; Heda, what is your plan?”

* * *

**_ANYA_ **

Anya adjusts her chair slightly. She wasn’t sure what to expect when the meeting had started, but this sudden turn of events was certainly not one of them. It is no secret that the Delphi and Blue Cliff clans detest each other, so a little scuffle here and there is usually anticipated.

Even though the Coalition is composed of thirteen, many have their own preferences for certain clans. Lexa and Anya have spent much time analyzing these relationships. Which has been useful when strategically planning seating arrangements, camp placements, and so forth. This method has proved to be successful in the past, but never at such a formal event have leaders let their distaste for each other escalate to such a level.

Had the dagger not been stopped, the Coalition would have shattered into different allegiances. The Delphi would certainly be supported by the Plain riders and Glowing Forest. Nassor has been the leader of the Plain Riders for many summers now. And he has taken Xavier as a mentee when Xavier’s father died about seven summers ago. Tiko, the leader of the Glowing forest, has only ruled for less than two summers so his interactions with the Delphi have been limited. But due to their location and shared borders both clans have built a strong relation based of the frequent trade.

And then there’s Igor. Igor may not be the most well-liked man among the other leaders, but his peoples’ devotion says otherwise. A dagger into the chest would have caused his warriors to rise and avenge his death. On average the Blue Cliff’s warriors are overall more well-rounded fighters than the Delphi due to conditioning at the higher elevations. But the Blue Cliff are by no means the best in the Coalition.

What would make the Blue Cliff dangerous is that they would have the support of both the Rockline warriors and the massive army of the Ice Nation (an unusual alliance but it has been rumoured that Igor and Nia have a long, complicated history of romantic interactions. Some say Nia’s late son, Roan, was Igor’s bastard. But to this day no such claims have ever been proven). Regardless it would have been a devastating war, one that even Lexa wouldn’t be able to glue the remains back together.

The high pitch sound of metal colliding replays in Anya’s ears. She sighs with relief. Thankfully, her and Lexa’s worst fears were put to an abrupt stop when Klark intervened. As Anya replays Klark’s throw, a chill runs down her spine. To connect with such a small target, especially one moving at such speeds, is near impossible.

The deadly precision certainly reinforces how dangerous this heir is and by the stunned faces scattered throughout the tent it appears others now realize this too. Not to mention the public reprimanding Klark has just lashed into the two _branwada’s_ is more than enough to intimidate the others. Even the look on Indra’s face hints that she too will be treading lightly.

The silence continues as Anya glances over to Lexa on her throne. Watching how the dagger twirls in between Lexa’s fingers, Anya can tell Lexa is carefully choosing her next words wisely.

“I would agree we have wasted much time. The only thing we know about this enemy is that they appear to be not much different than us. But who they are and why they are attacking the Glowing Forest’s borders is unknown. I believe there are many different routes we can take to stop this threat, but the question is which is the right one.” The dagger stills as Lexa looks back down the length of the table. “What would you do Klark?”

Indra’s face twists in disproval. Anya can only imagine the thoughts flowing through her stubborn head, but Anya has seen Lexa use this tactic before. It is a test. A subtle way to fish for information about a person’s character.

“I do not agree with those who think we should march right away. As far as I am concerned, I will not be sending my warriors to a fate we know so little about. How can you expect us to win if we do not even know what we are up against? The best course of action is to send out a scout team, a small group west. Then when they return, we will know more about this enemy.”

From the way Lexa presses her lips together, Anya knows that Klark’s plan was secretly the one Lexa had in mind.

“And what? Which warriors do you suppose are going to willingly be your so-called scouts?” Tiko defiantly crosses his arms across his chest. Apparently, he has already forgotten about the events that happened only moments ago.

“I have many warriors who will happily volunteer. In Azgeda we are faced with far worse than most of you know. But I would hate for anyone to think the Ice Nation is trying to claim all the glory for themselves. So, I think the fairest way is to send two warriors from every clan,” continues Klark.

“You are young and naïve to think that a Glowing Forest warrior will peacefully walk alongside one of your kind!”

“Well Tiko, if your warriors feel dwelling on our less than optimal history is more important than working together to protect our future then so be it. Just remember our _kind_ is the furthest away from this threat. I am sure we would be happy to leave if our help is not wanted.”

“Enough!” said Lexa interrupting the banter, “Tiko, I agree with Klark. It would be wise to remember who has marched to your aid. We cannot let past offences blind us if we want to successfully win this war.” Standing Lexa interlinks her fingers behind her back. “It is settled then, two scouts from each clan will leave at first light tomorrow. I think we have discussed enough here today. You are dismissed, and I look forward to seeing you at the feast. Tonight, we celebrate in honour of the Old Warrior. May his spirit grant us favour in the days to come!”

The sound of chairs moving, and leathers creaking fill the tent as bodies quickly exit the meeting area. From the haste of many, it is evident that they too wanted this meeting to end. 

“Klark? Could you stay back for a moment, I would like to speak to you…alone”

Lexa’s request stops Anya in her tracks. Meeting Lexa’s eyes, Anya is not sure what Lexa is doing. But from the look being given, Anya knows Lexa’s words are a command. Sighing to herself, she reluctantly leaves. Whatever Lexa is doing Anya can only hope she will be careful.

* * *

**_LEXA_ **

Lexa gives Anya another reassuring look. She can tell Anya is concerned with her choice for a private audience with Klark. To be honest Lexa is not sure what she is doing either, it probably would have been wise to let Anya stay. Especially since Lexa is not only trying to uncover clues about the enigma of Klark, but to also gain insight on whom in Lexa’s service is providing the Ice Nation private information. For a moment Lexa considers calling back for Anya. But suddenly stops herself when she meets Klark’s blue eyes accentuated by her painted mask.

A tingling starts in the pit of her stomach and slowly crawls up into her chest. It is the same magnetic force like feeling Lexa had felt when she first met the heir, but this time the pull is much stronger. Lexa is not sure how to describe it, but it is as if her soul is trying to reach out and pull Klark closer. A feeling so intoxicating it is the first time in five years the void in Lexa’s chest sparks with life. Such feelings could be problematic, and Lexa knows if she is not careful her judgement could be clouded. In a quick attempt to detach herself from the surging emotions, Lexa firmly bites down on her cheek. Once a familiar metallic taste hits her tongue, Lexa prays to the spirits Klark hasn’t noticed the strange affect her presence has caused.

Lexa seats herself at the head of the war table gesturing towards the empty chair perpendicular to hers. With grace Klark pulls out the chair and slips into the empty seat. Lexa hopes this seating arrangement will make things feel less formal and hopefully make Klark more inclined to share. Looking at Klark, Lexa swallows with slight regret. By how loud Lexa’s heart is beating, she is starting to regret this proximity.

Lexa quietly inhales as a new feeling emerges. Looking into Klark’s eyes, a dull pain sharply stabs into her chest. The eerie familiarity behind this heir’s gaze is haunting and Lexa silently reassures herself to be strong.

“I must say your performance this afternoon is already no doubt the talk of the camp. But I have not requested this audience to discuss your battle skills. Instead I have asked you here because I was once told when someone saves your life you are to say thank you.” A look of puzzlement creases into Klark’s painted face as Lexa pauses before further explaining, “As soon as I rose victorious from the conclave, I started dreaming about forging the clans into one. My entire life as Heda has been dedicated to this vision and now the Coalition feels like it is a part of me.” Lexa nervously taps her finger on the table when she notices how unexpectedly soft Klark’s eyes have become. “What I am trying to say is the Coalition is all I have left; without it I am not sure I would have a purpose. So, thank you for saving my life’s work.”

“My pleasure Commander. Azgeda benefits greatly from all its alliances. It would have been foolish to let it crumble. However, I am surprised to see how many of your leaders are just as Nia described to me.”

“Which is?”

“Well, incredibly dense minded.”

“An observation that has much merit. I may be Heda, but unfortunately I do not have the power to remove a leader on stupidity alone.”

“Isn’t that a shame.”

“It sure is.”

Lexa is unsure if this is Klark's attempt at humor. But since it's only the two of them, Lexa decides to allow a small smile form on her lips anyways. She is pleasantly surprised when Klark returns the gesture. It is hard to tell exactly what Klark’s smile looks like underneath the dark paint. It’s mysterious, and Lexa cannot help but imagine just how beautiful Klark would be if her face were free from paint.

“I should also take this time to thank you for your gift,” continues Lexa, “it was very thoughtful of you to present me something so personal. Can I ask where you got the inspiration from?”

“I am glad to hear it has brought you pleasure. However, I cannot take any credit. The true praise should be extended to my mother. She was the one who wanted me to give it to you.”

Lexa subtly clenches her jaw together. The confirmation makes Lexa feel slightly relieved that Klark could be unaware of Nia’s schemes. There is no doubt that Klark has influence, but perhaps even the Heir herself is not immune from being a pawn in Nia’s games. Lexa wants to press the issue further, but quickly reminds herself to have patience. Klark is intelligent. Too many questions will make Klark suspicious. Which would be a shame as their acquaintanceship seems to be starting off well.

“Please let her know of my gratitude when you return back home. I would hate for her to think that her gift was ill received.”


	25. An Unexpected Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the celebration feast, Octavia meets an acquaintance who could prove to be useful in her secret task. Meanwhile, Klark makes a discovery from an unexpected lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! I hope everyone is having a great week so far. As always, thanks for reading. LMS

**_OCTAVIA_ **

Octavia pushes a few plates to the side. Creating space at the empty seat besides Lincoln, she sits down. Her face twists with disproval as most dishes are full of untouched food scattered around the plate. It is the sad part of these festive celebrations; excitement mixed with copious amounts of wine have the tendency to turn eyes much bigger than stomachs. It is such an unnecessary waste, but then in many ways that is the nature of war.

“My love.” Lincoln’s large arms secure around her as he plants a soft kiss on her forehead. “I was looking for you earlier this evening, but it appears Anya stole you away from me. You two looked to be in deep conversation, is everything alright?”

“Yes. She just wanted to know if there have been any issues in our camp.”

“Oh? I did not realize there were any concerns. Is there anything I should be aware of?”

“Nothing in particular. I was just briefing her about Bellamy’s less than warm welcome to the heir, and that is about it.”

“Are you sure? You two seemed to be talking an awfully long time about one issue.”

“Yes I am sure. She just wanted to be absolutely certain there would be no further repercussions.”

Octavia winches a little from the guilt pooling in the pit of her stomach. It is not like she is lying to her husband. She and Anya did talk about Bellamy, but she’s just leaving out the rest of the details. Had she not been sworn to secrecy by the Commander herself, Octavia would never ever choose to leave Lincoln in the dark.

The truth is Octavia has spent this evening eavesdropping on different conversations, attempting to get new snippets of information about Klark. So far, this task has proven to be less than successful. The only thing she has learnt is Azgeda’s warriors think of Klark to be almost god like. Many even claim Klark’s spirit is one of immortality.

Octavia overheard the tales of how an injured Klark, single-handedly defeated a group of bandits terrorizing the east border. Or how during an expedition an abnormally large bear riffled through the camp. Apparently, many unsuccessful warriors tried to take the beast down, but their arrows and spears only aggravated the bear into a further rampage. That is until Klark stepped out of her tent. With a single throw, she plunged a dagger so deep into its eye socket the animal dropped right to its death. If Octavia had overhead this story a few days ago, she would have laughed at the over exaggeration. But after witnessing firsthand just how deadly accurate Klark’s throw is, there is no doubt this story has truth. But as entertaining as these stories are, Octavia knows they have no use to Heda. And seeing how she has an audience with the Commander tomorrow, the Commander is going to want something more than over dramatized folklores. Such tales are only good for passing around the campfire.

“Are you going to retire soon my love?” Lincoln’s deep voice snaps her attention back to his soft eyes.

“Hmm yes soon, but first I need to do something for Anya. If you are tired dear, why don’t you go. I will catch up with you later.” Just as he looks like he is about to protest, Octavia catches a glimpse of one of the Azgeda royals sitting at a table by herself. If Octavia plays her cards right, this could be the opportunity she has needed. “I love you, but I will talk to you later okay?”

Octavia gently presses her lips to his forehead and without another word quickly makes her way towards her target. When she gets close to the princess, the smell of wine meets her nose. It appears the royal has enjoyed herself tonight. Octavia smiles. This is the makings for a perfect opportunity. 

“Is this seat taken?”

Golden eyes look up only to squint slightly when they meet the light of the torches, “No, please help yourself.”

“It’s Echo right?”

“Yes.”

“I am Octavia kom Trikru. I have met Klark already, so it is nice to meet the sister Klark talked so highly of.”

It is hard to tell behind Echo’s war paint, but it is almost as if the lines of Echo’s face lift at the subtle compliment.

“Is that so? Well I promise I am the more fun sister. Here, have a drink with me!”

Echo fills a wooden tankard with a more than generous helping of wine. Red liquid sloshes up over the rim as the cup is passed to Octavia.

“So, what makes you more fun than Klark?” said Octavia sipping the wine in efforts of stop the alcohol from spilling onto her hand a second time.

A smirk forms on Echo’s lips, “Well for one, Klark has an image to maintain. Personally, I do not envy her… so much responsibility rests on her shoulders. I do not know how she does it. Our mother puts so much pressure on her, ‘Klark you are our people’s future, the winter wolf. You must be strong, feared, conceal your emotion. Others cannot see any signs of weakness blah blah blah _._ ’”

From the way Echo’s voice changes, Octavia can only assume it is a subtle mock to the Queen. Interesting. Octavia takes another a sip from her tankard savouring the smoothness of the wine.

“And the winter wolf? How does one get such a name?”

“Oh my mother’s fanatic obsession, that’s how! It is from an ancient Azgeda prophecy. I do not remember where it started, frankly I do not care as I don’t believe in such things. But my mother has become so immersed in seeing it come to fruition, I am certain most of her decisions derive from it.”

Echo fills her own glass back up which makes Octavia wonder just how much the princess has drank already. Especially seeing how loosely she is talking about her family affairs.

“I don't think I've heard this prophecy?”

“Whhhat?! Well you are in for a treat. It goes something like this,” said Echo speaking in a much deeper voice as she puffs out her chest in almost further mockery. “When the stars turn to dust; a winter wolf will crawl from the ice. As the sun loses its light; four giants will breathe new life **.** When the howl turns to flames; betrayal will scorch corruption from the earth. But out from the ashes, Azgeda will rise.” As Echo finishes, she snorts in laughter. “It’s absolutely ridiculous right? I have no idea what it’s supposed to mean! But like I said, my mother can barely make a decision these days without considering how her actions will impact its fulfilment!”

“So basically, Klark is the wolf….” The riddle’s words bounce in Octavia’s mind as she tries to decipher the meaning, “and the _bloka_ are supposed to be like the giants?”

“I never even thought of that!” Echo claps her hands together, “Not the wolf part. Mother has made it quite clear Klark is Azgeda’s saviour, but the four giants! It makes sense why mother would specifically choose to adopt four children to be parallel to the prophecy. Like I said…” Echo leans in so close to Octavia, Octavia can feel the warmth from Echo’s cheek. “She is batshit fucking crazy… I could lose my head if anyone overheard me say such things. So I trust you will keep this conversation you know, between you and me?”

Her slurred voice is so quiet Octavia strains her ears to understand the whispers. But once she understands, Octavia nods in reassurance. 

“And is Klark like that?”

“Like what?”

“Would have your head if one is caught speaking ill of her?”

“Never! Klark may look all hard and tough on the outside but let me tell you another secret: it is all an act. When it’s only us, Klark is just a big softy dressed in fancy clothes. Unlike our mother, Klark truly cares for our people. Do not get me wrong she can be terrifying, like just look at her over there,” Echo’s hand flops freely as she gestures towards the dancing crowd. “Wait where am I going with this… Oh right! Our people fear Klark, but it is not because of cruelty. I mean Klark has had to do terrible things, but it was never by her own choice. If you wanna know my opinion, I personally think our people’s fear stems from respect. No one wants to be a disappointment to her. Never has Azgeda had a monarch as worthy as Klark. You want to know another secret? I think it makes mother jealous sometimes.”

Octavia swishes her wines as she takes in the information. The intoxicated princess is proving to be quite useful and since their conversation has remained private, Octavia decides to pry just a little further.

“It is clear your people are devoted to her. Her home village must be proud.”

The glazed, golden eyes grow slightly darker, “Klark’s village was destroyed. The raiders wiped out the entire village. Besides Klark, not a soul in Ironoak was spared.”

“Oh? When did this happen?”

“After the Mountain fell.”

“Does Klark talk about it much?”

“Well… she doesn’t actually remember anything. So nope.”

“Remember? How so?”

“Here’s the thing, I’m not going to pretend to know anything about healing. But Azgeda’s best healers say that the trauma of Klark’s head wound caused all of her memories to escape her mind.”

Octavia’s eyes widen at the news. Such an unexpected twist.

“That is terrible, were the raiders ever found?”

Echo narrows her eyes as she pulls her lips back into a snarl, “Oh they were found…Skaikru.”

The words hiss from Echo’s mouth in such a way, Octavia can tell they are laced with such hatred it makes Octavia’s heart pound against the walls of her chest. 

“Skaikru? How?”

“Apparently the sky people fell in two drops. The first where Arkadia is, and the second landed in our territory. They had called themselves I dunno a farm station? And with their advanced weapons they slaughtered the whole village. Men, women, children, I mean everyone! Ironaok was known for its fishing and trading. A very peaceful place and I am sure they would have never had a chance! But worst yet, the Commander didn’t do anything to help.”

Octavia ponders on Echo’s words. The Commander has never mentioned anything regarding this. Sure, there were rumours that the farm station had caused trouble in the Ice nation territory, but never had Octavia expected such a horrific story. It is no secret Pike’s distaste for the grounders is evident. But to convince others to slaughter an entire village? She finds herself very unsettled by the news. This must be discussed with Abby and Marcus as soon as possible. 

“How was the village avenged?” questions Octavia.

“To this day blood has not been paid with blood. For years Nia has reassured us that vengeance for our pain is near. I promise you, the Skaikru will pay! And as soon as the ashes settle, a new Azgeda will rise.”

From the way Echo slowly sways her head to the far-off music, it is clear she is completely oblivious to the potentially treasonous information she has just shared. There is no concrete evidence, but it seems that Azgeda is up to something. It is a terrifying thought that this heir, one of the Coalition's most dangerous warriors, could be behind such a scheme. Without further thought Octavia’s blood runs cold.

* * *

**_KLARK_ **

Klark clenches her fists as she makes her way back to the centre of the feast. With every step closer her ears vibrate to the sound of distant drums beating to a variety of different melodies. Klark has heard that these celebrations are special because each clan showcases its different taste in music and Klark wishes she could have enjoyed the different rotations. Instead, Klark has spent the past two hours removed from the festivities arguing with Demetri about the upcoming scouting mission.

Demetri has volunteered to be one of the scouts and Klark can’t help but be upset about it. It is not that she thinks this task is below her brother, in fact, it is a great honor. But selfishly Klark would rather be the one with him or not have him go at all.

It is not that he can’t take care of himself. He is a perfectly capable warrior. It’s just that Klark would not be able to bear it if something happens to him. When Klark awoke from her injury, he was one of the first people she met. Echo and Ontari had been off on a hunting expedition, so he was tasked with showing Klark around Azgeda’s capital. And ever since then they have been inseparable. The connection they share is incredibly special and it is something Klark holds close to her heart. 

With a flick of her tongue Klark could command him to remain at camp. And if her orders be disobeyed, Demetri could face severe punishment for treason. But Klark is not that kind of ruler, nor is she selfish. Demetri has always been a character for adventure and has exceptional scouting abilities. In fact, there is no better choice. Still Klark tried to persuade him otherwise, but Demetri is stubborn. He has made up his mind and Klark knows it won’t be changed. Which is why she finds herself heading back to the festivities. A good glass of wine will probably help her feel better about tomorrow’s farewell.

“My _kwin_ , a glass for you?”

One of Klark’s younger warriors, Marta, hands over a large tankard brimming with crimson liquid. Nodding in thanks, Klark eagerly takes the bone cup into her hand. It is quite uncustomary for Klark to drink. She usually does not like to let her guard down by such substances. But considering the circumstances with Demetri, Klark will allow herself just one cup.

“Klark!” Klark jumps at the boisterous voice behind her. Before Klark can turn around, two arms wrap themselves firmly around her waist. An embrace that makes Klark’s posture incredibly rigid. “I have beeeen looking for you everrrrywhere!”

Uncomfortable from both the sudden touch and the loudness of this person’s voice, Klark shifts awkwardly out of the firm hug. Turning around Klark is surprised to meet two brown eyes. From the way they are glazed over, Klark can tell this Skaikru girl is clearly in a drunken state. 

“Hi?” Klark uses a much lower voice in the hopes this random Skai girl will get the hint. 

“I brought you some moonshine! A fresh brew made by Monty himself! Here, take a sip!”

“I am okay tha-” The Skai girl smashes the cup into Klark’s mouth before she can finish her sentence. The liquid is strong, much like Azgeda's vodka, but is no where near as smooth. With another forced sip the potent flavour burns a trail down Klark’s throat. Quickly Klark pushes the cup away to avoid any further assaults. It is not that it's terrible tasting, but Klark can tell by the burn it's much stronger than the smooth wine. Klark wants to loosen up a bit, but not any further than that. It would be unwise to let herself become unguarded in front of this strange girl and the other clans. 

“Wasn’t it goooood! It was one of Clarke’s favourites. I mean you practically share the same name, so you have to like it too right?!”

“Yes thank you…” Klark snaps her fingers trying to pull the mechanic’s name from her memory, “Raven.”

Luckily, Raven is so drunk she didn’t notice that Klark momentarily forgot her name. Klark looks around at the observing eyes. Hopefully, this Raven leaves her alone soon. This less than informal interaction is causing quite the scene. 

“Yay! So why are you so doom and gloom? I have been watching you these past few days and you are one serious little cookie! Like look at you now,” said Raven patting the top of Klark’s head. “You look like someone peed in your cereal this morning. How about you come with me to the dance floor and I will show you how to loosen up girlfriend!”

Klark feels her face flush with embarrassment underneath her paint. She has fun with her siblings, but even then Klark is certainly not used to this type of informality. And from the uncomfortable looks of her nearby warriors, it appears they too are feeling awkward by Raven’s display of such casualness towards Azgeda’s heir.

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else. I do not usually partake in such activities. It is not customary fo-”

“For what? Someone of your status to have fun? Come on, we could die tomorrow, and I bet the first thing that would cross your mind would be ‘man I sure wish I had danced with that Raven girl’. Plus, how do you expect your people to relate to you if you’re always a big ole fat stick stuck in the mud?”

Raven pops her hips side to side while protruding out her bottom lip. She looks absolutely ridiculous. But as much as this interaction is annoying Klark, Klark can’t help but think that Raven is right. She is not sure what a stick in the mud means, but her people do view Klark to be godlike. So maybe it won’t hurt to show them a little bit of humanity? But as quickly as the thought comes, Klark disregards it.

“You are too kind Raven kom Skaikru. However, I unfortunately cannot dance. To save you the embarrassment, you should find yourself another partner.”

“O…M….G! You are in for a treat! No embarrassment will be had here because I happen to be the smoothest dancer the ground has ever seen. Come on now, chug your drink.”

Klark barely has time to react before the mechanic shoves the cup back to Klark’s lips. She tilts it in such a way Klark has no other choice than to gulp down its contents at a rapid speed. Thankfully she has decided to wear a black shirt tonight, otherwise her usual white attire would already be stained head to toe.

“Come on Klaaark! To the dance floor we go!”

The mechanic grabs Klark’s arm, pulling her awkwardly towards the crowd of dancing people. Klark is about to pull herself free from Raven’s grip but then remembers the metal contraption placed around Raven’s knee. Klark is not sure what the device is for, but would hate to somehow throw her off balance and injure her further. Klark rolls her eyes. It appears she is committed to whatever this is. Hopefully any of these onlookers are already drunk enough they won’t remember this tomorrow.

“Can we go closer to the middle? I do not want anyone to notice us,” asks Klark.

“Like that is going to change anything, but yes, as you wish kwiennie!” As soon as they get to their position, the music changes to a faster pace. From the sound of the drums, Klark figures it is most likely a song from the Sankru. “Okay kwiennie, you ready to show me what you got?”

 _Kwiennie_? Klark doesn’t even bother to correct the strange nickname. At this point it is no use. Nervously, she bites the corner of her lip. From the way she barely feels her teeth indent the corner, Klark knows the alcohol is already affecting her. It is embarrassing that the feared heir is such a lightweight. But then again, if Klark wasn’t under any sort of influence never in a million years would she be on this dance floor with this obnoxious Skai girl.

“Okay lesson one, you don’t just stand there. Which brings us to lesson two, let the music flow through you. Like this…” Raven starts moving side to side. It doesn’t look overly complicated so Klark attempts to follow her lead. At first Klark feels incredible awkward and rigid, but as the song progresses, she starts to feel a little looser.

“Oh and fair warning my knee can sometimes hinder my fabulous abilities. But just follow along like you’re… wait why are you moving your hands like that?” Raven swats Klark in the shoulder. “No, no, no! Stop that! You look like a monkey. Are you even watching me, like thissss.”

A small smile lines Klark’s lips. Surprisingly, it is one she doesn’t even try to suppress. Who knew this Raven, a Skai girl of all people, could be so entertaining? In fact, this is probably the least serious Klark has allowed herself to be since being named Heir.

They continue moving until Klark loses track of time. She is not sure how long they have been out here dancing, but by the cramp in her foot she can tell that it has been a while. Klark looks around. The crowd has thinned leaving just a handful left in the dance area. Just as Klark feels like it is time to quit for the night, the pace of the music slows down into a sultry like rhythm.

“Ohhh well this is new! Are you ready for lesson three Klark? Hips…. Don’t… Lie…”

Klark squints her eyes slightly in confusion. The influence of the alcohol still lingers, but it’s the loud music that masks Raven’s voice.

“Hips don’t what?”

“Lie! Just watch and learn kweinnie!”

Raven takes a few steps back and slowly begins to roll her hips to the pace of the drums. Klark eyes widen. Never has she witnessed movements so, so, well actually she can’t even describe it other than the slight flushing feeling they have over her. The way the mechanic moves is so incredibly beautiful, it is like Raven is one with the music. And as Raven lowers herself almost seductive like to the floor, Klark finds herself surprisingly weak at the knees.

“See it is easy… just move your hips like this.”

Without losing the rhythm, Raven steps closer and places her hands onto Klark’s hips guiding Klark to mirror the fluid movements. The action catches Klark off guard. And her eyes snap up onto deep caramel brown, darkened and still glazed over from the alcohol.

“Wow kwiennie. Had I known such a dancer was hiding underneath all that fancy armour, I would have made you dance with me days ago.”

Klark swallows a lump in her throat as Raven’s hands begin to wander themselves down Klark’s lower back. Moving her focus to Raven’s rose-coloured lips, Klark takes a moment to linger there for awhile before finally trailing her eyes to Raven’s lowcut shirt. Raven is very generously exposed and once Klark realizes how long she has been staring lustfully at Raven, Klark guiltily looks to the ground. As _kwin_ , she should have better control over herself.

Raven, however, does not seem offended by the attention. Instead continues to sway her hips to the beat as she pulls a somewhat dazed Klark in closer. Klark feels her own heart begin to slam against her chest when the warmth of another body meets her skin. But when Raven begins to grind against Klark’s front, Klark cannot help but become lost in another world. Usually Klark prefers to take charge, but something about the thought of being at the mercy of this Skai girl begins to send Klark over the edge.

“Lesson four, a slow rhythm….” said Raven while nibbling teases down the side of Klark’s neck, “is known to have a strange effect on people. It tends to expose our deepest desires.” Klark’s eyes flutter closed when Raven’s two hands travel further firmly grasping her backside. “Sometimes we don’t even know such desires exist. If you’re alright with it Klark, I can help you find them.”

In a trance like state Klark nods her head. Slipping one hand overtop Klark’s, Raven slowly guides Klark to the lowcut shirt. An unexpected whimper escapes Klark’s lips when her hand caresses Raven’s generous chest. As if on instinct Klark begins to knead the breast softly in the palm of her hand before impatiently slipping past the barriers of material.

With her free hand Klark begins to explore Raven’s backside too. And when Klark cannot take the anticipation any longer she pulls the mechanic in and captures Raven’s lips with an eager kiss. An action that causes both girls to immediately freeze in place. Klark looks to a set of equally startled eyes and quickly retreats her hand out from Raven’s shirt.

“I’m sorry Raven, you are beyond beautiful. I wish…” Klark nervously runs her fingers through her own hair, “well what I am trying to say is that I am crazy for not taking you back to my tent. But when we kissed it just felt…”

“Like kissing a sister?”

“Yes,” Klark is overcome with embarrassment. She feels completely terrible for rejecting Raven like this, but there was something about the kiss that didn’t feel right. And Klark is certainly not one to use someone else for personal satisfaction.

“Don’t be embarrassed Klark!” Raven pulls Klark into a friendly embrace. “I felt exactly the same thing when our lips met. I think I now have a lesson five.”

“Which is?”

“When attempting to seduce a dancing partner, be sure to always kiss them first to check for sparks.”

Klark laughs in relief, “Thank the spirits. I was so worried I was offending you.”

“Nah, it takes a lot to offend this girl. Besides, you did say I was beautiful.” Raven playfully winks at Klark. “So, what do you say kwinnie, friends?”

“Friends.”

“Come on Klark, let’s escape this dancefloor and go get another drink. I think we could both use a moment away from the spotlight.” Raven gestures to the growing crowd. “Apparently our sexy little display has pulled in quite the audience.”

For the first time since Raven’s lesson started Klark looks around and notices the gathered crowd. A mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces stare back while whispering among themselves. Klark can only imagine the rumours her and Raven have started but decides to let such thoughts not bother her. This is not the first time Klark is the subject of the conversation and she knows it certainty won’t be the last.

As they walk, Klark finds it humouring to see the different reactions Raven’s seduction attempt has caused. Further into the crowd Klark nods to Beorn, who gives her a subtle wink. To Beorn’s left the warrior from the sky, Octavia, stares with her jaw practically unhinged.

However, a reaction Klark does not see belongs to the one sitting behind her. From underneath the smudge of black kohl, two emerald eyes burn with such intensity Anya is certain Raven will combust into flames at any given moment.


	26. Goodbyes are the Hardest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, happy Monday! I would like to apologize about being a day late with the chapter post. My personal life got a little busy this past weekend. But to make up for making you wait I will be dropping two chapters on the next posting day ;). Sorry again for missing Sunday, and as always, thanks for reading. LMS

**_DEMETRI_ **

Demetri removes his glove and tightens a buckle on his pack saddle. The cool air rushes to his skin and he notices how the morning air is more crisp than usual. But then again, he is not usually up at this hour.

There are twenty-five other warriors mounted on horseback beside him. He can tell some are more anxious than the others, but personally he is beyond excited. He has been on many scouting missions, but most have been with either Echo or Klark. This will be his first-time solo which means a start of a new adventure. One that he can be a part of without being hidden underneath the shadows of his sisters.

It is not that he is jealous of them, but in a sense, Demetri would like to have a chance to carve out an identity for himself by himself. Which is why, much to Klark’s disproval, he volunteered for this mission.

Demetri looks to the crowd to find Klark positioned not too far from Heda. It might not be obvious to others, but when he meets Klark’s gaze, Demetri can tell she is worried. Flashing Klark a reassuring smile, he draws in a breath to call out to her. But just as he is about to speak, Heda steps out in front of the group. Exhaling, he bites the inside of his cheek. His words will have to wait until another day.

“My warriors, you honour me and the Coalition with your actions here today. I wish you all good fortune on your mission and may the sword of the Old Warrior protect your path. May the hands of the Wise Healer watch over your heart. And may the spirit of our past Commanders’ guide your journey home. Should this be the final time we see each other in the flesh, I pray to the spirits we will find each other once again in the next world.”

The warriors erupt in screams and one by one turn to gallop away into the horizon. Before Demetri rides off, he looks back to Klark and pats his hand over his heart. He knows Klark understands the unspoken exchange and just like the warriors before him he turns his horse to the west.

* * *

**_KLARK_ **

The crowd that came to see the scouts off has long returned to the safety of their own camps. But Klark can’t seem to move from her spot. Instead she remains fixated on the tiny silhouettes of riders chasing the horizon. Before Demetri rode off, he had placed his hand over his chest. Klark knew what he was trying to say. It was his way of reminding her that whatever happens all the memories they have shared can never be taken away.

Her chest tightens at the thought as a single tear trails down her cheek. Looking up to the morning sky, Klark blinks hoping to stop others from falling down her face. Too late. As her chest restricts further a few more tears streak through the black and white war paint. Klark clenches her jaw, such an embarrassing display of weakness.

“I find goodbyes the hardest.”

The sound of a deep, husky voice startles Klark from her thoughts. Klark was so caught up with her own emotions she did not hear anyone walk up beside her. Quickly she pats her eyes to coverup the evidence of humiliating tears.

“Do not worry,” the voice continues, “there is no one else here. I have seen to it that no one will approach us. Take all the time you need.”

Klark sniffles slightly as another tear falls. Great, out of all the people who could see her like this, of course it had to be the Commander.

“I am sorry you have to see me like this.”

“No need to apologize. I think I can understand. As leaders we carry a burden the others do not. It’s us who must look into the eyes of our warriors and say, ‘go die for me’. Truthfully, we do not know what is in the west, but I hope their sacrifice will be successful. It is a sad reality of war, but victory stands on the back of sacrifice.”

“I know. I just can’t help but feel I will never see him again.”

“And you may never.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, but it is the hard reality of life. If your brother’s spirit escapes his body, then you must remember that death is not the end. His spirit will find yours in the next life.”

“I am not sure I can bear it if he doesn't return to me.” Klark dries the last of her tears as she finally removes her focus from the horizon. Looking towards the Commander, Klark is surprised to see a certain softness she never thought could never exist.

“You would. I promise you would get through it,” said the Commander.

“You do not know that. You do not know what he means to me,” said Klark balling up her fists. “I should have just commanded him to stay.”

“Yes, you could have, but you and I both know that would not be right. As leaders we must constantly fight the tension between leading with our head and our heart. Choosing to let your brother leave was a choice, one that you made with your head and not your heart. There is nothing we can do about it now and we must live with the consequences.”

“Does it get any easier Commander?”

“Does what get any easier?”

“Knowing when it is right to choose the heart over the head?”

“No, I am afraid not and sadly it is not in our power to dictate the consequences of our actions. But what we can control is how to handle them.”

“How we handle the consequences?” questions Klark.

“Yes.”

“I can imagine the time you've served as Heda you've gained an immense amount of experience in this area.”

“Sadly, more than I care to admit.”

“It is hard you know. To always be expected to act so strong, so infallible, so cold. It’s tiring I....” Tears that Klark thought she regained control over, begin to well up once again in the corner of her eyes. “I am just so tired.”

Klark looks back over to the Commander and once again Klark is surprised to see such an empathetic expression. Out of anyone, perhaps Heda knows exactly what Klark is trying to say. It’s ironic, but in this moment the presence of the person Klark thought she would despise the most is oddly comforting.

Klark closes her eyes in attempts to keep her tears from falling again. But to her embarrassment another tear falls down her already streaked face. This time however, the tear stops midway when a gentle touch grazes Klark’s chiselled cheek.

“I know. You are a strong leader Klark kom Azgeda and do not let yourself believe a few tears say otherwise. From what I have observed your people are fortunate to have someone like you.”

The wind picks up slightly as the two continue to stand staring off into the distance. No more words are exchanged, but for the first time in a long time Klark feels a sense of peace still her anxious heart.

* * *

**_RAVEN_ **

The sound of footsteps thundering into her tent stirs Raven out of sleep. She barely has time to register her surroundings as the furs fly off. She squints her eyes in annoyance as cold air makes a nipping assault on her near naked body.

“Hmmmm Octavia, what the actual hell!?” Raven reaches down and pulls the soft furs back up around her.

“I could say the same to you! You wanna be Casanova.”

“Ssssh your voice. My head, it hurts.”

“You are unbelievable. I might not be in the dating game anymore, but last time I checked I am pretty sure getting to know someone usually doesn’t involve grinding all up against them.”

“Gosh, relax O.”

“No, don’t tell me to relax! Dammit Reyes, Klark better been a good screw because your reckless actions could put us all in some serious trouble!” 

“Stop worrying. No one will be marching over here for our heads. We are on good terms I promise.”

“And what happens when Klark decides she doesn’t want to screw you anymore or you do something stupid and offend her. Do you not understand? I won’t be able to protect you!”

“You don’t have to. We didn’t, nor will we ever be having sex.”

“I promise you, the next time you beha… wait what?”

“I said we didn’t have sex.”

“What do you mean? How? I saw you all over each other on the dance floor! Then you two left together towards Azgeda’s tents.”

“Yah, but we didn’t have sex. When I was dancing it felt great, but as soon as she kissed me it was like all the fireworks stopped. It was like she was my sister.” At the memory Raven squints her eyes while exaggerating a gagging motion.

“So you expect me to believe, the heir of all of freaking Azgeda invited you back to her tent for what, a tea party?”

“Yup, Klark’s actually a really cool cat. I mean she comes across all bitchy and cold, but if you take time to get to know her and look past her big fancy title, she is surprisingly normal. I even get the sense she’s a little lonely” With a shocked expression, Octavia eagerly crawls onto the Raven’s mattress. She takes in O’s expression. Such strange behaviour. “Sooo you’re being weird O. Are you just going to sit there with that stupid look on your face or can I go back to bed?”

“I just…wow. What did she say?”

Raven rolls her eyes, so much for her plan to sleep in. O may be like a sister, but she is going to owe her one.

“Nothing really, we just talked about her life.”

“Like?”

“Frick O, I do not remember everything; I was pretty buzzed. I dunno, we talked about her training, which by the way Nia sounds like just a lovely little peach. And then I told her what life was like in the sky.”

“And Klark didn’t say anything that sounded like a threat or a concern? Did she say anything about us?”

“Nope… er, well yes. I lied. She did ask briefly about Pike but that was about it.”

At Pike’s name, Octavia’s head seems to snap to attention, “What did she want to know?”

“Holy interrogation O. It is too early for this crap. Klark just wanted to know how he is adjusting to life on the ground and then a few questions about his weaselly character. But like are we done now? I am pretty sure to get my beauty sleep I actually have to be sleeping.”

“Okay, fine I’ll leave. But promise me Rey if you see anything suspicious about your new friend you will tell me immediately.”

“Sir yes sir!”

* * *

**_ANYA_ **

“Has there been any further conflict between the Delphi and Blue Cliff tribes?” questions Lexa.

“No, they seem fine and are keeping to themselves. I was worried how last night’s feast would go, but so far, it appears there should be no concern,” said Anya lightly tossing an apple in the air. When it lands in the palm of her hand, she throws it up again. “But there were a few fist fights, but it was quickly sorted out. Nothing more than an overindulgence in wine to blame.”

“Good.” Lexa nods but remains fixated on the pile of maps she is sorting through on her table.

“How long do you think it will be until our scouts return?” Anya watches as Lexa’s fingers slow, but then returns to quickly shuffling through the maps.

“It is hard to say. Earlier this week Tiko said there were reports of enemy sightings a week’s ride away. I’d give them at least two or three to gather sufficient evidence.”

“And he didn’t think it necessary to gather a full report on these enemies before summoning your presence?” questions Anya.

“We both know Tiko is not the smartest man, but he is indeed loyal. His call for my aid shows that he values my protection. We shouldn’t turn our backs on those who continue to look to the flame for guidance.”

The sound of flowing water meets Anya’s ears as a shy _seken_ fills her empty cup. Nodding in thanks, Anya causes a small smile to form on the young girl’s lips. Lexa, however, continues to be preoccupied with sorting through her maps. If it were anyone else, Anya would be annoyed about the apparent lack of interest, but Anya knows Lexa enough to know Lexa is giving her full attention.

“We should also remember Anya that our journey south has also pulled the wolf from its den. Speaking of which, what do you have to report?”

Just then the tent’s flap flies open.

“Sorry I am late!”

Octavia bursts through the tent. It is clear she has been in a hurry as sweat beads along the top of her dark hairline. Octavia has improved immensely as a warrior, but her punctuality could still use a little bit of work.

“No need to apologize Octavia, Anya and I were just getting started. We were discussing Klark. Did you learn anything about our winter wolf?”

Octavia nods as she focuses on regaining her breath. Pulling out a chair she sits herself down besides Anya. 

“Yes, yes of course. I am not sure I have found anything useful, but as you are probably aware her people love her. Many look to Klark to be almost godlike.” Octavia continues as Lexa nods in reassurance, “I have to admit last night I was slightly discouraged, that was until I made an acquaintance with a drunk royal.”

“Klark?”

“No, Echo.”

“And? Did she say anything useful?”

“Well Echo never explicitly said it, but from what I gather, Nia is starting to lose her mind. It sounds like Nia is absolutely infatuated with an old Azgeda prophecy. From what I gather she is trying to use all means to see it become fulfilled.”

Lexa presses her lips together at the information as she continues to sort through her maps. When Lexa’s eyes light up, an old map frayed around the edges is placed next to a newer looking map. Soon the disorganized stack is returned to the orderly fashion it had been earlier this morning.

“And what did you interpret from this prophecy Octavia?”

“Well I think Azgeda is up to something. Echo mentioned that Nia has promised her people that vengeance for their pain is near and soon a new Azgeda will rise.”

“I see. And the winter wolf?”

“Well in the prophecy the winter wolf is supposed to help Azgeda be reborn or something. Something Nia has sold to the people. Which would explain why many believe Klark to be a god. I fear that Nia is going to make a move to obtain power.”

Anya taps her fingers on the table. Of course, she and Lexa have already figured this out. But right now the concern is how much of a role Klark is set to play in Nia’s schemes. Octavia looks to Anya then to Lexa. Eyebrows creasing as if in slight confusion at the apparent nonchalant demeanor.

Soon Octavia’s eyes open wide with realization, “You knew?!”

“Yes. Not too long ago, Anya and I found a much darker scheme is in our midst. Nia has always been one to lust for power. But our concern is not when but _how_ Nia is going to utilize her greatest weapon.”

Lexa reaches for the two maps she set aside and pushes them towards Anya. Taking in the tarnished papers, Anya narrows her eyes in attempts to read the faded descriptions. These are clearly two diagrams of Azgeda, but Anya finds herself uncertain as to why Lexa wants her to look at them.

“So, you see Octavia, the true question is just how deep Nia’s claws are dug into her heir. Was there anything Echo said that could be useful?”

“Yes, and I fear the farm station may have created… well, some complications for us. Echo mentioned that Klark’s village, Ironoak, had been slaughtered by Pike and his followers when they were travelling down to Arkadia. Apparently Klar-”

“Was the only one left alive.” Lexa leans back in her chair as she begins piecing together the heir’s story. “Which could explain why she lost her composure during our first audience with her.”

“I must admit, Klark has acted very professional. Not once have I witnessed her act hostile or rude towards the Skaikru. Cold yes, but I believe she has treated the other clans in the same manner,” said Anya offering her observations.

“I would agree. When I escorted her to meet with Abby she did not act with any hostility. In fact, apparently according to Raven they are like friends now? Echo even mentioned being angry that the Commander did nothing to stop or avenge Ironoak’s slaughter. I just don’t understand, if Klark truly hates us, would she make such an effort to be civil?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Anya notices the way Lexa’s eyes narrow at the mention of the mechanic’s name. Making a mental note, Anya decides to address Lexa about that reaction later.

“It is possible Klark is tricking us. It is no secret her mother is a notorious manipulator, so it wouldn’t be unrealistic for Klark to learn such skills. However, I cannot help but feel there is a certain genuineness about Klark. Yes, she could be helping her mother’s agenda, but I do not think Klark possesses a core as nearly dark as Nia’s.”

“Are you suggesting you could change her allegiance Heda?”

“I’m not sure. I think that will be a later discussion once we know more about Klark. But let’s focus on something we do know,” said Lexa gesturing towards the two maps Anya holds. “Since the heir mentioned Ironoak, I have been thinking about this village and why I have never heard of its story until a few days ago. Anya, do you see any differences between the two maps you are holding?”

“No, they are both maps of Azgeda. If anything, the other is just a little older.”

“Exactly what I had first thought too. The older map belonged to one of my predecessors. Where the newer one was given to me from Oli kom Sankru as a gift to celebrate the fall of the mountain. They are near identical until a closer look… right about here.”

Lexa’s slender finger lightly trails the yellowed parchment. Anya’s eyes follow over the forested landscape and vast lakes until stopping at a settlement in the North Eastern territory of Azgeda.

“Ironoak,” Anya reads out loud.

“Yes, this is, or should I say was Ironoak.” Lexa removes the old map from Anya’s hands and replaces it with the one gifted from the Sankru. “Now, if you look at the same spot on this newer map, what do you see Anya?”

“Nothing…”

“Precisely! When I had received this map, I was told it had been freshly drawn by Sankru’s finest drafter days after the mountain had fallen.”

Anya’a eyes widen, “When both Skaikru and Azgeda were yet part of the Coalition!”

“Exactly.”

“So, what does this all mean?” questions Octavia.

“That Echo is mistaken,” said Anya pondering on this finding. “Since neither clan was under the Commander’s protection at the time, Lexa would have had no obligation to sort out their conflict.”

“So why would Echo believe so strongly otherwise? Azgeda has been in the Coalition for years now,” said Octavia. “Surly she would know now how the Commander’s protection works?”

“Questions only time will be able to tell. Regardless, I think we should still be extremely careful Heda. Octavia, maybe you could spend your day finding a little more information about what happened in Ironoak. But for the rest of this meeting I was hoping to speak to Heda,” Anya looks towards Lexa to emphasis her point. “Alone.”

Octavia takes the hint as she rises from her chair. Adjusting her weapon belt, she dips out of the tent.

“What is the meaning of this Anya?” said Lexa while her face twists with slight puzzlement.

Anya’s fingers run along the frayed edges of the map. She knows she is about to cross into a delicate area, so the next words must be chosen carefully.

“I have been watching you these past few days Lexa and is there anything you want to tell me about the heir?” The question makes Lexa’s posture instantly rigid. As if subconsciously Lexa begins to roll her charcoal ring in between her fingers. “Look Lexa, I do not want to overstep. But you appeared to be very protective this morning when you commanded everyone away before going to talk to Klark. A conversation that looked quite intimate if you ask me.”

“I was only showing her compassion Anya. A good leader should know when to comfort their people when necessary.”

“Would you then justify that a good leader should also become rife with jealousy when a specific Councillor Reyes rubs herself all over the heir?!” Lexa’s cheeks instantly flush red. It is hard to tell if this reaction is due from anger or embarrassment, regardless Anya decides to continue, “Look, you must understand you are the most important person to me. But I fear you are looking to Klark to fill a certain void in your chest. I must admit there are many eerie similarities, so I can see why the idea of Klark looks appealing. But Lexa as your closest friend and advisor, I beg of you please do not risk your life’s work by trying to become whole with someone who is not, nor will ever be Clarke.”

 _“Bang!”_ Two hands firmly collide into the wooden table below.

“Get…out.” The words hiss through Lexa’s clenched teeth and Anya realizes she has overstepped.

“Lexa, please I did not mean to upset you. I am just worried about you my child.”

Too late. From the tears beginning to well up in Lexa’s eyes, Anya knows she has done exactly that. Anya’s heart clenches in regret as Lexa’s tears begin to streak down her pained face.

“Get out Anya,” said Lexa hiding her face in her hands, “and do not make me ask again.”


	27. Hidden Talents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klark learns something unexpected about the Commander that makes her further question the accuracy of Queen Nia's teachings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Again I want to say thank you for your patience as I deal with my personal life. I have spent the last week and a half moving to a new city, but I promise you the chapters will continue to be dropped back on the regular Wed/Sun schedule. 
> 
> I also apologize for being behind on comments, I will be getting to these this weekend now that I am some what settled in. Anyways, I did promise a bonus chapter, so be on the look out for that either tomorrow or Saturday. Hope everyone is have a great week, and as always thanks for reading. LMS

**_KLARK_ **

It has been four days since Demetri rode off into the distance. Which means it has been four days since Klark’s walls fell in front of the Commander herself. She feels her face flush at the memory. The whole scene was beyond embarrassing for Klark, so for the past few days she has avoided the Commander at all cost. A plan that was going well until this morning. Klark doesn’t know what snapped but currently her feet seem to be dragging herself towards the Commander’s tent. If Klark has any chance to fix the weak impression the Commander has probably formed of her, today feels like a good day to do it. 

At the red tent’s entrance stands four guards all inked with traditional Trikru markings. These are most likely some of the Commander’s best since each have the cogwheel symbol seared into the side of their necks. Klark cringes at the thought of hot iron meeting exposed skin. Pain she is all to familiar with as the symbol of Azgeda sits just above her heart. As Klark nears, four spears fall from their resting position daring her to step an inch closer.

“Heda has ordered not to be disturbed!”

The tallest of the four burns Klark with his stare. Clearly, she did not think this through well enough. She bites the inside of her cheek. Why on earth did she think she could simply waltz into Heda’s chambers without an invitation? Klark scolds herself for the idiocy. But since she has travelled this far, she might as well try getting the audience she desires. 

“I promise I will not be long. I just want a quick word with the Commander.”

“Did you not hear me girl? I said Heda has wished to not be disturbed. Turn around and go on your way.”

“Please just tell her Klark kom Azgeda would like to speak with her.”

“I do not care where you come from or who you are. My orders are clear, I will not let yo-”

“Let her pass!” The Commander’s voice emerges from the inside of the tent. From the exchanged looks, Klark can tell the four guards are quite surprised at the invitation. She cannot help but puff her chest in victory as the tallest warrior looks down on her with astonishment. (Little does Klark know it is extremely rare for Heda to allow anyone witness her enjoying her hobby. In fact, only Anya has been granted such permission once or twice).

Klark dips into the tent. Scanning the room, she notices that not much has changed since the war meeting a few days ago. Chairs line the long wooden table, maps and other pieces of parchment are neatly stacked at the corner, all overlooked by a throne sitting high on the platform.

Suddenly Klark realizes the Commander is no where to be seen. A realization that causes Klark’s stomach to flip with a slight tinge of nervousness. If this room is empty, then the only place the Commander could be is in her personal quarters.

“Just through here Klark.”

Perfect timing. Klark notices the hole in the divider and with a shaky inhale passes through. Once in the Commander’s personal quarters, Klark’s eyes widen as they take in the most unexpected scene.

“Commander? I am sorry to interrupt.”

“No, not a problem. What can I do for you Klark?”

“I wanted to say thank you for showing me kindness during my moment of weakness. Your presence provided me with the comfort I needed; however, I do wish you would not let my slip of emotions tarnish your perception of me. I promise I will remain composed for the remainder of this campaign.”

Klark wants to dip her eyes to the floor in shame but finds herself so fixated on the vast array of colours splashed up Heda’s muscular arms she cannot look anywhere else.

“Long ago I used to believe that feelings made us weak. That only a true Commander would be above it all. But if I have learned anything in my years of ruling it would be that maintaining such a façade is impossible.” Klark watches in awe as the Commander wipes her tool on her pants. A small smile lines Klark’s lips, clearly the Commander is not too worried about staining such expensive cotton. “Although my perceptions on feelings have evolved over the years, I still believe as leaders we must remain cautious. There are many who would wish to exploit anything perceived as weakness for personal gain. Which is why I have found other ways to express my feelings in the privacy of my own quarters,” said the Commander gesturing to the easel. 

“I must admit, I never expected our Commander to be one to have such a passion for art. I do not know the proper etiquette, but would it be considered rude to ask to see your portrait?”

“To be honest I have never showed anyone my paintings before, but if you promise to not critique it too much, I will be willing to show you.”

“Of course.” Klark finds herself slightly taken aback when a childlike smile brightens the Commander’s usual grim, stoic face. Wiping her hands on already stained trousers, the Commander eagerly gestures Klark over.

The canvas is alive with a mixture of green and brown earthy tones. In the middle of the canvas sits a shape, that Klark presumes to be a tree, in front of an open meadow. Green splotches scatter haphazardly along the tip of the tree’s unproportionate limbs. Squinting slightly Klark tries to adjust her eyes; on a crooked branch rests some sort of red blob. It is a small shape and after a few moments of silence Klark decides she has no idea what this red shape is supposed to be.

Klark bites the inside of her cheek to suppress the giggle that is building up in her chest. The painting is well, rather dreadful. And considering they have only known each other for less than a week, Klark feels it most unwise to crush the ambitions of the aspiring artist whose chest is currently puffed out with pride.

“Wow…Commander it’s…” Klark waves her hand as she tries to muster up the right words. “Well it is sure something else isn’t it. What ever inspired such a piece?”

“Two days ago, I went on a walk and I found a lone tree positioned at the front of an open meadow. I thought nothing of it at first, but when I got closer to it, I noticed a robin sitting peacefully on one of its branches. Immediately I knew it would make a great portrait.”

 _“A bird… so that’s what that blob is,”_ thought Klark before turning back to the Commander, “I must admit I am a little envious of you. Nia would never allow me to waste time painting. All hours that could be used for free time, I have is spent in the pits training.”

“Well how about you give it a try?”

The invitation is intriguing. Klark bashfully plays with her grey tunic sitting loosely on her frame. She knows she shouldn’t dabble in such useless activities, but somehow cannot help but feel curious. Ever since Wellston she hasn’t had the urge to draw until now.

“I am thankful for your offer Commander, but I would hate for you to waste your supplies on me.”

“Do you think I choose to paint because I believe that I am skilled Klark? Absolutely not. You have been very polite, but I think we both can agree painting is not my strongest suit. I only do it because it’s surprisingly something I have learned to enjoy. Come, sit here.” The Commander points towards the empty stool, “I may not be the most talented, but I promise I will show you everything I know.”

A fresh canvas is placed on the easel and a new paint brush is set into Klark’s hand. This odd tool stirs up an unexpected feeling of comfort and Klark cannot help but agree with the Commander. Perhaps this too could be a hobby she would enjoy. Klark tests the weight of the brush; the balance feels exceptional. Not that she knows what a good paintbrush feels like but decides it can’t be much different than testing a sword’s balance. 

“So, you dip the brush in the colour you want.” With enthusiasm, the Commander points Klark to the palette. “Now you want to cover the bristles… Wait that’s a little too much Klark, use the side of the palate to remove some of the paint. If you have too much, it will smear on the canvas.”

It is strange to experience the Commander this way. Eyes lined with unusual softness and the stone mask Klark first met has melted into one that is rather quite welcoming. In fact, this whole interaction is unexpected. Almost as if the Commander is not a new acquaintance but rather a long-time friend. But what surprises Klark the most is that she finds herself wanting to let her guard down even more than she had with Raven. Klark can’t describe what she is currently feeling, but it is almost as if a gravitational like force is trying to pull her closer to the Commander.

Klark brings the tip of the brush closer. Just before colour meets canvas, she finds herself slightly unsure. It is not that Klark doesn’t know what picture she wants to paint, but for some reason she wants this to be perfect.

“I was nervous the first time too.” The smell of earth and spice meets Klark’s nose when the Commander comes much closer. “Here, let me help you,” said the Commander as she wraps her hand around Klark’s wrist. The touch is electric and Klark can’t seem to focus on anything other than the sensation of the Commander’s hand sliding down to her own fingers. “A talented artist had to help me make my first stroke, so I can understand the hesitation.”

Klark’s stomach flips with excitement. She is not sure if it is due to the dark brown pigment being spread onto a once clean canvas or the fact that the Commander’s hand still remains fixated on top of hers. Biting the corner of her lip, Klark looks to the Commander who is now sitting in such proximity Klark can hear a thumping heartbeat that matches the speed of her own.

Their closeness is one two mere acquaintances would normally not share. And Klark cannot help but notice how the Commander’s profile itself is like a beautiful piece of art. It is the first time Klark has really taken in the leader and she cannot believe she is just noticing now how captivating the Commander is.

Klark follows the chiseled jawline up to two almond shaped eyes. Their shade is like the forest itself as golden flakes are speckled throughout the deep olive colouring. As Klark holds the eye contact, she feels like she has become lost in the mystery of this version of the Commander. Whatever this moment is, it is like nothing Klark has experienced before. And if this could be the only world that ever existed Klark would never choose to leave this emerald forest.

“Ahem.” The Commander clears her throat as a she removes her hand from Klark’s. The sudden absence of heat snaps Klark out from living in an alternative reality. To her surprise, a sudden twist of disappointment churns in Klark’s stomach. 

“Um well, yes,” said the Commander as she interlocks her hands and places them securely on top her own lap. “It looks like you are a natural Klark. Do you have a certain picture in mind?”

Klark looks back over to the Commander, whose eyes fall to the floor in bashfulness. Klark internally smiles. Who would have thought the mighty Commander could look so cute when shy.

“When we travelled through the Blue Cliff territory there was one morning I couldn’t sleep. So I decided to go watch the sunrise rise over their cliffs. I remember thinking how incredibly beautiful it was and I would like to recreate this memory.” 

“Uh yes. The ranges are something aren’t they. That is what I love about the Coalition, every clan has something different that makes each unique.”

Klark wipes the tip of the brush onto a rag and dips the bristles into her next colour. A charcoal grey. She no longer hesitates to drag the paint across the canvas and soon the outline of a mountain range comes to life before her.

“I must admit, it was nice to finally get out of Azgeda. Do not get me wrong, I love my nation, but being kept within its boundaries was starting to feel like a prison,” said Klark laughing slightly. “But I am sure if my mother heard me complain I would be whipped for my ungratefulness.”

Out of the corner of Klark’s eye the Commander’s figure goes slightly rigid before standing up and moving to the far corner of the room. Klark watches as a slender finger traces over the spine of a withered book as if the Commander is contemplating her next words.

“Are you close with your mother?”

Klark’s paintbrush stills at the question, but quickly resumes its movements.

“I know my mother can be exceptionally difficult. I have always thought we had a great relationship, but as I grow older, I am beginning to think I am more of a nation’s pawn and less of an actual daughter.”

Klark bites the inside of her cheek. How dare she let such feelings slip out to the Commander. But then she quickly reconsiders as she goes on another thought process. This is the perfect opportunity for her to get a few things off her chest. Klark can’t share the doubts she now has about Nia to her siblings when they too have a deep loyalty for their maternal figure. Heda on the other hand has had a strained history with the Ice Queen. It is rational to assume this is the safest place to share true feelings without Nia catching wind of Klark’s ill words. Well that’s what Klark is hoping for anyways.

“I should clarify. I do love my mother. I am beyond blessed by her generosity. I would never be the heir or the warrior I am today without her counsel. My entire existence is owed to her and for that I will be forever grateful.”

A small, reassuring smile forms on the lips of the Commander as she continues to sort through the various of items on her shelf.

“Do not worry Klark, I have been Heda long enough to know what Nia does to those who speak anything but praise for her name. I promise what we say will never leave these walls if I knew it would put you in any danger.”

Dipping the brush into a new colour, a deep crimson for the morning sunset, Klark presses her lips together as a new feeling of confliction surges in her stomach. Not once has she waivered from an order given from Nia, yet here she is letting herself become comfortable and loose lipped with Nia’s target. Nia has told her that the Commander’s death is the only way Azgeda could prosper, but how can Nia be so certain? From what Klark has seen, the Commander is nothing like Nia has described her to be. Every interaction Klark has had with Heda only solidifies the Coalition’s need for Alexandra. The Commander is woven so deeply into its fabric that Klark is beginning to think one cannot exist without the other. Could Azgeda truly thrive if this version of the Coalition were to fall? Klark presses her lips together, she’s not so sure.

“What troubles you Klark?”

The Commander’s husky voice pulls Klark out of her troubling thoughts. Klark had been so focused on her inner conflict she failed to notice the Commander has positioned herself back on the stool beside her.

“I just…” Klark begins, not knowing how she should explain her thoughts without causing suspicion. “How do you know what we are told is the truth? After my accident, I had to relearn many things. What if.. er, well I guess what I am saying is what if the things I have been told is not the truth?”

The Commander’s expression falls into one of momentarily confusion, “Your accident?”

“From the village attack. I can’t remember if I mentioned when we first met, but I was struck on the head when Ironoak was destroyed. Ever since then I cannot recall my past life. With Nia’s guidance, I was able to intergrade back into life.”

“Hmmm yes. So what you are saying is how do you know what you have been taught is true. I must say, this is a very interesting question,” said the Commander as a cylinder object is lifted off one of the shelves and brought into Klark’s view. “What is this Klark?”

“A candle.”

“Yes, that’s correct. Now hold your hand over the flame.”

Klark furrows her brow in slight confusion but does not hesitate to follow the instructions. Soon the flame’s warmth meets the palm of her calloused hand.

“What do you feel?” questions the Commander.

“Heat.”

“Precisely. If you keep your hand hovering over the candle’s flame will it not burn your skin?”

“Yes.”

“And how do you know it would burn your skin?”

“Well I have seen what fire does to flesh, but also because I am starting to feel the uncomfortable presence of the heat on my hand.”

“Exactly. No one can deny that the flame would burn your skin if exposed to the heat too long. It is foolish to reject that fire is hot because well, it is a concrete fact.” The Commander softly blows onto the candle, snuffing the flame into a spiral of smoke. The smell of smoldering wax fills the room as Heda continues, “Now tell me, what do you know about the Old Warrior?”

“He is an ancient spirit, one who wanders the ground among us. He protects the righteous and when our journey is at its darkest, the flames of his sword will guide our path.”

“Yet he cannot be seen with the naked eye, so how do you know he exists?”

“Well he has guided our safe journey down to the Glowing forest territory. Not only has he given me knowledge on how to strengthen Azgeda’s army, but not once has he left my side during a battle. In fact, I have no doubts he will be with us when we face this unknown threat from the west.”

“Ah yes. So, the basis of his existence has been developed on what you have discovered personally. Meaning your past experiences have affirmed your belief in the Old Warrior. But what if I told you I did not believe in the truth of his existence because every time I called for his protection, I almost lost my life to my enemy’s sword. Or what if the last time I asked him to guide my path, bandits robbed my warriors and wagons. Do you see what I am saying Klark?”

Klark pauses the progress on her painting. The once white canvas is alive with colour; overtop the mountains the sun’s crimson and orange sunrise splashes across the horizon. Dipping her brush into a different shade Klark mulls over the Commander’s words. After a few moments of silence, she starts piecing together what the Commander is trying to tell her.

“I believe the Old Warrior to be true based on my own personal experiences where you believe him to be false based on what I am assuming is hypothetical experiences.”

“Yes Klark, hypothetical experiences.” Leaning in closer the Commander allows a slight, mischievous grin to cross her lips. “Besides, I do not think I would be much of a Commander if I allowed a group of bandits to rob me in broad daylight. But my prowess as a Commander is not the point of this lesson.

The point is based on our own experiences we both have merit to argue our position. Our own journeys have paved evidence for our own ideologies about the Old Warrior. It is quite possible that I am correct, but that should not discredit the fact that it is equally possible that your perception of truth could be correct as well. But tell me Klark, what reality can we not disagree on?”

“The heat of a candle.”

“Precisely. The heat is a fact written in a stone that will never be changed. Our own ideological truths, however, are constantly being shaped as we journey down life’s path. I can imagine that being forced fed a lifetime of experience in the short span of five years has most likely distorted some things. Which brings us back to your original question. I think your focus should not be on truth itself but rather learning how to find the facts hidden among the subjectivity of our realities.”

Klark’s critiquing eyes run over the finished landscape while pondering Heda’s riddling words. For the most part the implied message is eerily like her own thoughts she’s had over the last few days. For five years not once has Klark dared question the integrity of Nia’s information because of the debt Klark felt she’s owed to her mother. And it’s this blindness that has made Klark the perfect candidate for manipulation. And ironically the enemy Klark has been taught to hate is helping Klark see the light. 

“You know Commander, you’re much different than I had expected.”

The Commander’s eyes ignite with curiosity, “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“I hope you are not disappointed.”

“Yes… er well, no. What I mean is I am disappointed in myself for allowing my opinion of you to be distorted by others.”

“Klark kom Azgeda are you are admitting the Ice Queen thinks ill of me?” The statement makes Klark shift nervously on her stool. The thought of speaking so openly about her mother’s hate for the Commander feels like a betrayal. As if sensing Klark’s discomfort, the Commander lightly squeezes Klark’s shoulder in reassurance. “Do not worry Klark I already know the answer. Your mother and I share a vengeful history; I would not be surprised if she is already planning my demise.”

Biting in the inside of her cheek, Klark carefully controls her outward emotions. Even if it was just a joke, hearing Nia’s plans spoken out loud by the target herself creates an unsettling feeling.

“I am pretty certain she plans everyone’s,” said Klark humourlessly in an attempt to prevent the Commander from observing any clues. “I might be heir and all, but I am sure if she has no more use for me my head would become her new centre piece.”

“From the Ice Queen I would expect no less. However, speaking of expectations, your artistry has far exceeded mine.” The Commander gestures towards the finished product, “Klark, this is amazing. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

Klark’s cheeks flush with heat from the compliment. For once she is thankful her painted face conceals the reaction.

“Thank you. But do not look too closely, especially just to left of the third mountain. I was having a hard time figuring out a technique on how to make the cliff look a little more realistic. I would love to practice more, but I am sure Nia would have my hands whipped for such treachery.”

“I think it is absolutely brilliant. You should be proud of yourself.”

“They say a student is only as good as their teacher. Without you I am certain my painting would have flopped.”

The tips of two ears flush to red. Unfortunately for Heda, she does not have luxury to hide under the same paint as Klark. 

“Well I think this is a situation where the student has become the master. With a little more practice, I can imagine you will become just as good as my teacher was.”

“Commander?”.

“Yes?”

“Earlier you mentioned that you used to believe feelings made us weak. I might be overstepping, but what made you change?”

If the Commander is surprised by the sudden shift in conversation, she does not show it. Instead the Commander moves over to the small, brown sofa positioned across from Klark’s stool. Sinking into the soft looking seat, the Commander pulls a fur throw over her lap. Klark finds herself surprised when a confident hand lightly pats the empty cushion, inviting Klark to come sit down.

Without hesitation Klark accepts the invitation and plops down on the cushion. The sofa is much softer than she had expected, and the weight of Klark’s fall sends a small array of dust whirling into the light.

“It was loss….”

The vibrance behind the Commander’s eyes slightly lose lustre as they redirect focus to the far back corner of the tent. Following the Commander’s gaze, Klark’s eyes widen with astonishment and she finds herself completely fixated, unable to move her attention from this object in the corner.

The two continue to stare in silence at the object. So many unanswered questions stir up in Klark’s mind, but she restrains from asking them. Klark feels that her and Heda’s relationship is slowly evolving into something more than just acquaintances, but she isn’t sure being privy to personal secrets is something she has earned. But Heda surprises Klark when she breaks the silence once again.

“I had once believed most feelings were of weakness. I had thought that by suppressing my emotions, those I loved most would be protected and life’s pain would eventually numb away. But unfortunately, I had to lose everything before truly realizing that life should be about more than just surviving.”


	28. More than a Portrait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! I hope everyone is having themselves a good weekend. Here is the bonus chapter I promised. I'll be responding to comments later today. Again, sorry I am so behind, but I love reading all the feedback (even the constructive too!) so keep it coming. 
> 
> I just wanted to quickly address the point that characters have not yet realized Klark is Clarke. I agree the dramatic irony I've created can be frustrating at times (even for me) because I can't wait for you all to find out what happens when things get pieced together! 
> 
> And perhaps I have pushed the boundaries of realistic. I will admit I'm a huge fan of the Shakespeare classics and I'm sure I let this influence the realisticness of Klark's storyline. But then again, Superman's Clark Kent is only disguised by a pair of glasses LOL. Anyways what I am trying to say, is please have patience for Lexa as she tries to make sense of everything. Clarke was taken from her in such a tragic way, she is not looking for Clarke, but rather she is trying to sort out why there is such a pull towards Klark that I think she is currently letting her curiousness blind her from seeing the truth. 
> 
> I won't give anything away of course, but I will say this, if Lexa found out Klark was Clarke right away you would not be able to see how Lexa's character arc changed from Clarke's lost. And as you read in the last chapter, she hasn't hardened up like she did with Costia. I really think Lexa's character change is beautiful, but for us to explore this she can't know who Klark really is - just yet anyways ;). I promise Nia's secrets will start to unravel, I won't say how but there is some gooood drama coming your way. As always, thanks for reading! LMS

**_KLARK_ **

“My _kwin_?”

Klark’s attention snaps to the opening of her tent. At its entrance Beorn’s wiry framed _seken_ , Hondo, stands holding a long slender package. Gesturing him forward, the nervous boy with flame coloured hair walks in.

“The wood workers have finished the stand as instructed. Where would you like it set up?”

“Behind the divider in my private quarters. You will see I have placed a cloth on the floor by the bookshelf. Please put it overtop, thank you, Hondo.”

Last night Klark had spent hours trying to find the best spot to display her gift. She originally wanted to have it in the throne area for all to see but decided against it. The nature of this gift may be seen as too intimate by some and such observations cannot be had. So, after some thought she eventually found the perfect spot next to her bookshelf.

“It is done my kwin. Is there anything else you require me to do?”

“No that will be all. Please tell the woodworkers I appreciate their diligence.”

Hondo bows deeply before exiting. Once Klark is alone, she enters her personal quarters and her eyes quickly shift to the new easel sitting empty near her bookshelf. With careful hands Klark uncovers the canvas wrapped in a protective cloth. The pads of her fingers emit a soft scratching sound as they run along the canvas only to stop before the lower right edge. In black ink the artist’s name is scribbled onto the corner:

"LEXA"

A small smile forms on Klark’s lips as she carefully places the artwork into the groves of its new home. Taking a few steps back Klark perches herself on top her bed to appreciate her gift from a further view. Inspecting the painting Klark lets her mind wander to the time shared in Heda's tent.

They had been sitting on the couch for some time talking about life and other things, but Klark remembers not being able to peel her eyes from the piece of art displayed in the corner. She had no idea what she was looking at, but its majestic swirls of colour against the black background captivated her gaze the very moment she noticed it. It was not like anything Klark had even seen before and eventually the Commander noticed her distraction.

_“It’s incredible isn’t it? For five years this painting has never left myside. In Polis its home is above my fireplace mantle, but when I travel, it sits right over there.”_

_“Yes, it is absolutely breathtaking. The colours, how they swirl around against the black. What is it?”_

_“Space.”_

_“Space?”_

_“Yes, space. This is what the Skaikru could see before they came to the ground. The blue and green sphere is earth, the very soil we walk on.”_

_“It is beautiful… This painting is so real. It is almost as if I am seeing it in person.”_

A small smile lined the Commander’s face at Klark’s praise, _“Yes. This was the first painting given to me by my teacher.”_

_“She is really talented.”_

_“Was…”_

_“Oh, I am sorry. Did she paint lots?”_

_“Yes. She had spent many hours painting. It was her way to unwind and she enjoyed it very much. After her death it hurt too much to look at a paintbrush, but one day I missed her so much I picked up the tools and attempted my hand at painting. As you saw what I painted earlier, I have not improved much, but I have learned to enjoy it.”_

_“Well I love your painting. I think the blob really captures the abstract nature of the robin.”_

_“Oh you are far too kind.”_

_“What do you usually do with your finished paintings?”_

_“Well, I either burn them or just paint over them with white. Then once it dries, I will repaint it.”_

_“You can’t!”_

_“Can’t what?”_

_“Burn this canvas.”_

_“Well I do not see much of a use for it other tha-”_

_“Sitting in my tent.”_

_“You would want this?”_

_“Yes”_

_“Well then it will be your gift only if you do one thing for me.”_

_“Yes?”_

_“I want your painting in return. I have Skaikru’s view of the ground, and now I will have Blue Cliff’s view of the mountains. I think I would like to start collecting views from each clan. That way I can feel connected to them back in Polis. Currently I have two, so I only need eleven more.”_

_“I think we have a deal Commander.”_

Just before Klark left, she remembers lifting the Commander’s canvas and the name on the bottom corner had caught her attention.

_“I thought your name was Alexandra?”_

_“Yes, it is. But those who are most important to me, call me Lexa.”_

_“I see. Well I should probably be on my way. Thank you, Commander, for your company and wise words this afternoon, it was much needed.”_ The Commander handed Klark a tan coloured tarp and carefully Klark wrapped up her gift. _“Good day Commander.”_

Just before Klark reached the barrier separating the Commander’s personal quarters from the throne room a low voice softly called out that stopped Klark in her tracks.

 _“Lexa…”_ Klark remembers thinking she hadn’t heard right, so she turned around to see the Commander intently looking back at her. _“When it is just the two of us Klark, Lexa is fine.”_

The cry of an eagle pulls Klark out of yesterday’s memories and the amateur painting comes back into her focus.

“ _Lexa…Those most important to her,”_ thought Klark while reading Lexa’s name again.

Klark bites her lip at the thought. Being privy to using the Commander’s name is something she never expected to receive rights to. Yesterday Klark had walked into the Commander’s tent as just another acquaintance, but ironically left as, well that’s just it. Klark doesn’t really know what they are.

All Klark knows is these strange feelings that have stirred in her chest tells her that they are no longer just military acquaintances. Which of course is more than slightly problematic for her mother’s plans, but Klark has no use for such schemes now. When the war is finished only then will she revisit her task. Until then all Klark wants to do is enjoy this unexpected relationship budding with Lexa. 

* * *

**_OCTAVIA_ **

Scanning the tables, Octavia finally locks her eyes on the back of her target’s head. Marcus’s chocolate brown waves are noticeably tousled in haphazard directions. Octavia heard from Abby that apparently he has been slightly under the weather, and from his current grooming efforts it appears to be true.

“Marcus.”

“Octavia.”

“Is this seat taken?”

“No, but I do warn I have some sort of sinus cold. So, for your sake I would advise you to not venture too close.”

“Do not worry, it will only be a few moments. Just don’t use my fork.”

Setting the clay bowl onto the table she sits down next to the general. The quiet sound of crackers snapping in her palm fills the silence as the crumbled pieces fall into the mysterious looking dark brown broth. Stirring the spoon Octavia feels a tinge of jealousy of the roasted antelope the Azgeda's chefs were preparing. It is no secret that the Skaikru’s food is the blandest of all clans, and this is the fourth mystery soup they have had since their journey south. But food is food, and Octavia knows she should be grateful. 

“What can I help you with Octavia?”

“Well I was wondering; do you remember anything about the farm station’s journey to Arkadia?”

“Like you are talking five years ago, just around the fall of the mountain?”

“Yes”

“Hmmm, I have known you long enough to know you are fishing for information. Just be straight up with it,” Marcus winks. Even under the weather and he still is his humours self.

“Look, I am not sure if this is true or not, but I heard that the farm station may have caused trouble in Azgeda.”

“Trouble?”

“Yes, my sources say that they ran into a villag-”

“Your sources?”

“You shouldn’t look so surprised Kane; I have friends too you know!”

“I am just joking with you; we all know you are Indra’s not so secret favourite. I have no doubts you have friends in high places. So this village?”

“Slaughtered.”

“Slaughtered?”

“Yes, with our guns. Everyone but one had their spirits taken from them.” His chocolate eyes widen with slight disbelief as he takes in the surprising words. “Tell me Marcus, did you know about this?”

“No… Octavia are you sure? This is a grotesque accusation if incorrect. We do not know how Pike will act if he hears this, especially if false.”

“Well why don’t we just ask him.” Octavia abruptly stands waving wildly to her target, “Hey Pike! Come over here for a second.”

A tall, caramel skinned man seated a couple of tables down looks up towards Octavia’s voice. To Marcus’s apparent dread Pike stands up and makes his way towards to pair.

“Kane, Octavia.”

“Pike take a seat. I know you have training to do with our soldiers, so I promise this will only take a minute.” Adjusting a buckle on his uniform, Pike sits himself beside Marcus. Deep brown eyes meet Octavia, as if curious for her question. “I heard something very interesting the other day. I must say I was quite impressed with the story, but before I thought more of it, I wanted to confirm its trueness.”

The earth and sciences teacher leans ahead with noticeably peaked interest, “Go on.”

“I caught wind of a story that when the farm station was making their way down to Arkadia, they had a little riff in an Azgedian village. I believe the name was Ironaok? Does that ring a bell?”

The popping sound of large knuckles fills the void between the three. After a few more moments a sinister like grin curls on the corners of his slightly chapped lips.

“Ah yes oh course. The village near the valley. I remember it well, what about it?”

“The whispers say that the village was completely destroyed. I would like to clarify I am not accusing you of anything; actually, I think I am more impressed with the display of power.” The lie slips out of Octavia’s mouth as she silently prays Pike will not call her bluff. “So, tell me, how did a group of farmers manage to wipe out an entire village, slip past the borders of the most gruesome nation, and also manage to not face a single act of retribution from the ice nation?”

“Power,” Pike’s deep voice hisses past ivory white teeth. For the second time today, Octavia notices how Marcus’s eyes widen as if in disbelief at Pike's confirmation.

“Power?” questions Kane.

“We are powerful people Kane. The ground thinks we owe them some sort of gratitude for offering us sanctuary, but the truth is they owe us for not utilizing our true power. One day I know you and Abby will finally see that it is us who are superior. Our time will come when the sky will be at the top again. We just need a little bit of patience.”

“So you do not deny these claims?”

“There is nothing to deny. You must remember when we crashed to earth, we weren’t as lucky as the rest of you. We had walked for days not knowing where we were or how to survive the cold climate. Unfortunately, our food supply severely diminished as most of it had been destroyed from the landing. By the time we stumbled upon Ironoak, we were starving and desperate. I remember asking the village people for food, but of course they didn’t understand a word we were saying.” Pausing for a sip of water Pike wipes his hand over his lip catching a stray splash of liquid, “A hut had salted meat hanging on a line and I don’t remember who, but one of our kids went to help themselves and that’s when the details get a little hazy. I don’t remember much more other than we showed that village and the rest of the grounders who gets what they want.”

“Were there any survivors?”

“Not a one.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because as we rummaged through the village, we piled up the bodies, to make sure they were you know...” Pike’s voice trails off at the memory. “Let’s just say we made certain no survivor would be waking up.”

With fingers Pike points a fake barrel to his head and mimics the motion of a pistol’s kickback. The action causes Octavia’s stomach to twist in disgust at the thought of such unnecessary deaths. 

“Did you not fear what the Ice Queen would do to you? I mean you still had to travel through Azgeda? Were you not worried they would seek blood for blood?”

“Like I said, power is protection. We had no trouble for the remaining of our journey. If I recall correctly, near the Azgeda/Trikru border we passed right through a small blockade without any issues. I tell you these grounders fear our weapons. One day Kane you will see what we can accomplish.”

“It has only been five years Pike, soon we will all will see the truth. Thank you for your time and thank you for what you have done for our people.”

When it is just Marcus and Octavia sitting at the table, it is Marcus who breaks the silence, “Very well played Octavia.”

“Thank you, Kane. I figured a man like Pike would not hesitate to overshare after his ego was generously stroked.”

“But I am confused. The ground has always lived off vengeance. When we first arrived, we seen their ways firsthand: blood must have blood. How could the Ice Queen let such a treachery go unanswered?”

“I believe the wolves have been patiently circling just waiting for the perfect moment. The wool has been pulled over our eyes Kane, sadly we are not as safe as we once thought.”

“What should we do?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Yes, nothing. My sources promise me that they are taking care of it. We are to treat Azgeda no different than the other clans.” Looking around for listening ears Octavia leans towards Marcus, dropping her already raspy voice to a low, barely audible whisper, “But I do think Pike is a problem. We have been here for five years already and he has yet to willingly integrate with the ground. I think we should be keeping a closer eye on him and any followers he might have. The last thing we need is an uprising to provoke the wolf into prematurely striking.”

“Agreed. I will inform Abby at once. Thank you Octavia for trusting me with this. Please tell your sources, whoever they are, that if they need any additional help the Chancellor and I will be more than willing.”

With haste, Kane strides towards the medical tent. No doubt he is already heading to inform Abby of this new information. Octavia taps her fingers onto the surface of the table as she replays Pike’s confirmation. For the most part the story lines up with what Anya had told her. Except for one small detail.

Chills run down her spine at the thought of the farm’s station’s barbaric actions. If Pike had ensured all were dead, how was it possible that the Heir managed to be found alive? Octavia’s logic tries to rationalize her thoughts, maybe Klark had been lucky? It is possible that with all the chaos Klark was missed among the pile of bodies. Octavia swallows, or maybe Pike’s story has just confirmed her intuition is right. There is something off about Klark kom Azgeda and soon Azgeda's lies will be dragged into the light. 


	29. Fractured Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demetri leads the small scouting campaign west only to find more than he bargained for. Meanwhile Klark becomes torn between loyalties when the Commander makes a surprising move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday everyone! For my fellow Canadian readers, Happy Thanksgiving weekend! And for the rest of you, I hope your weekend was great as well. Wednesday's post will really start taking off as Nia's lies begin to unravel. As always, thanks for reading. LMS

**_DEMETRI_ **

They’ve been riding for six days and have not found much more than a few skittish deer and other small rodents scouring the earthy floor. The terrain is much different than the frosty fields Demetri is used to and as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, the thought that he may never see the snow again makes him feel homesick.

A bead of sweat streaks down his pale complexion. It is unbearably hot today and he is thankful that he decided to ditch the dramatic war paint days ago. It is the first time in five years the fresh air hits his skin without the annoyance of a painted barrier. Even among the feelings of homesickness, never has he felt so free.

It is not that he always wears his paint; there have been countless times his face has been bare. Most times it is when he sits in the privacy of the royal courtyard or practices in the private sparring pits – all areas his mother considers the ‘safe zones’. Granted the rules have never been as strict with him as they have been with Klark. For as long as he can remember, his mother’s overly obsessive nature has been in overdrive on keeping Klark’s identity at bay – something he has not put much thought to until now. The horse beneath him neighs softly as his mind wonders back to a past conversation he had with the Ice Queen.

_“You and your siblings are divine, above all the people in Azgeda. The black and white must always be worn as it signifies who are the protectors of our people. But I fear for Klark’s safety Demetri, we both know she is incredibly special. If the people would learn of her true identity, I fear her life would be compromised. When Klark secures the throne, she can make her own rules, but for now you must promise me son that you will do everything in your power to keep her hidden…”_

His mother’s voice replays through his mind. Truthfully, he has never pondered the rationale for the orders. He recognizes the symbolism of their painted masks, so that he can understand. But what perplexes him, is with or without the paint, Klark is one of the most respected warriors of Azgeda – only a fool would dare challenge her – so why would his mother put so much emphasis on concealing her identity?

A strange feeling of uncertainty simmers at the bottom of his stomach. The coarse hairs of his horse’s mane run through his fingers as he tries to find reason for this new feeling. He decides to chalk this uneasiness to the eerie stillness of the morning. But deep down he knows if he would just be honest with himself these feelings have to do with the fact Demetri feels that his mother is hiding something.

If this is true, why has it taken him this long to get this intuition that his mother has been nothing but unnecessarily irrational? The clues have been there all along and he mentally scolds himself for being so short-sighted. Klark is the only one to have blind or near blind handmaidens in her service, the only one ordered to never let anyone see her bare face, and the only one to dye her hair. And until now Klark has always been forbidden to leave the Ice Nation’s borders an order Demetri and his other two siblings never needed to follow. 

It is possible, there is more to his sister than he knows. From his mother’s behaviour anyways, Nia clearly knows something he is not privy to, but the question is what. He pulls out a small, sliver container tucked securely in his breast pocket. Its contents are slightly bitter as the waxy mixture is spread in efforts to moisten his chapped lips.

 _“What about Klark could be so secretive that mother has went to such great lengths to keep her identity such a secret_ ,” thought Demetri. After a little more pondering his eyes widen in realization as the silver container slips out of his grip and tumbles down to the earth. Her _true_ identity.

It’s all starting to make sense. The irrationalness of the painted faces, Klark’s unfortunate accident, constant indoctrination of the old prophecy. Convenient ingredients one could use to build a plausible sense of who Klark is. In fact, the whole story of Ironoak now seem slightly suspicious. 

If Nia has used these events to her favour, well is Klark even Klark? Is this why his sister has been off lately? Why she had questioned him about truth? Has her journey out of Azgeda showed her something he has been too blinded to suspect until now?

“Demetri, just to the north. Look, from behind the trees” His thoughts are cut short when a Blue Cliff scout directs his attention to the rising cloud of smoke over the tree line.

“A campfire?”

“It appears to be so.”

A burley Trikru warrior rides up next to the young prince. Out of the twenty-six scouts sent out, Demetri’s royal status makes him by far the highest ranked warrior. Which in default has made him in charge of the others. A responsibility he had not expected, especially since there are far more experienced warriors on this mini mission. He had been hesitant to take charge at first, but soon realized if he wanted to make a name for himself outside of the _bloka_ , this would be his chance.

“You, stay and guard the horses,” said Demetri pointing to the Blue Cliff warrior, “I will go with Donavon to sneak closer to the campfire. The others are to flank wide, scanning the area for any signs of life. You two Trikru, we will need your cover from the trees above. If there is immediate danger, make two hawk cries and we will know to retreat back here.”

A rush of adrenaline courses through Demetri’s veins as he stalks silently towards the smell of campfire. Leather boots meet soil and each step is surprisingly soundless. For his large stature, he is very light on his feet – credit owed to many hours spent rigorously training under Azgeda’s top assassins. He may have hated learning under their gruelling methods, but now he is quite thankful for all blood and cuts the pads of his feet endured.

As he inches closer the sound of muffled voices crescendo. He strains his neck slightly in efforts to make out what is being discussed, but he is too far away to recognize what the voices are saying.

He raises his hand. It is the signal for Donovan to slow and Demetri takes a few silent steps into the lead. Quickly he ducks into the thick underbrush. Peering through the shrub like greenery, Demetri's eyes narrow in on half a dozen warriors sitting around a medium sized fire. All appear to be focused in on a small rabbit looking carcases rotating on a spit.

There is nothing strange or different about the warriors only twenty feet from him. Their weaponry and armour look like those the Plain Riders or even the Glowing Forest clan wear. Their colours, however, reminds him much of the browns and yellows of the Lake people.

Demetri nods to himself. This information makes him feel a little more at ease. Had the invaders possessed more advanced technology like the mountain had or the Skai people, well he is certain many more lives would have been lost when it came to the actual battle.

Just to the left of the fire a small man sits reading a book. Surprisingly, this man wears no armour but does have a red cloth that sits diagonally across his face. From the looks of it, it is as if the cloth is covering up an old battle wound or perhaps a defective eye. Regardless of the potential defect, from the way the others interact with him, he appears to be of importance. Interesting. This is a strange observation as this man doesn’t strike Demetri as a warrior.

The sound of a twig snapping pulls Demetri away from the man with the covered eye. Before he can register what is happening a burning sensation buries itself deep within his chest. He steps back in attempts to recover from the sharp throbbing ripping into his body, but the loose rocks cause his ankle to roll. As Demetri stumbles down into the dirt another pain just as sharp as the first spreads into the flesh above his knee.

His two eyelids become heavy as the forest around him begin swirling in impossible patterns. As his head crashes into the soil beneath him the sound of two hawk cries screech through the humid air. Taking in the smell of the musty soil the world around him quickly fades into black.

* * *

**_ECHO_ **

The knife buries itself deep within the target, making its mark a few spaces from the centre. It would be considered an excellent shot for many, but she still feels disappointed in her lack of accuracy.

“Your grip is too tight before you release.”

Nodding at Klark’s advice, Echo eyes up the target again. Focusing on the weight of her grip she launches another dagger into the air. Slightly closer than her first throw, the blade sinks deep into the wood.

“Much better Echo.”

“But still not perfect.”

“In battle a kill is a kill. It would have done a sufficient job.”

Echo rolls her eyes, easy for someone to say whose throws are always perfect. Since Echo can remember, Klark has always had a talent for two things: dual swords and dagger throwing. A combination that makes her lethal on the battlefield, both at far and close distances.

“Easy to say for someone who never fails to hit the same spot consecutively.”

“You are too hard on yourself Echo. We all have different strengths; I cannot yield a spear as well as you can.”

“You’re right, nobody can.”

Klark shakes her head as she places her black leather carrier on the fallen tree’s bark. Unrolling it Echo squints slightly as the sun reflects off the multiple daggers meticulously organized inside.

As Klark begins to line her belt with the small knifes, Echo cannot help but notice there is something different about Klark. It is not that Klark is acting strange, she is still as serious as she usually is, but there’s something off. It is like Klark’s mind is elsewhere, almost like she is distracted or bothered. Scuffing her foot against a tuff of grass Echo decides to just go for it.

“There’s something different about you.”

Klark’s puzzled blue eyes lift to hers, “Is that so?”

“Yes. What has changed in you Klark?”

“I think you are imagining things Echo.” Klark finds a position much further than where Echo had been standing. As a look of concentration falls into place, Klark draws an elbow back and sends a dagger sailing into the air. With a thud it embeds itself deep into the centre of the small “X”.

“No, I am not. I have known you long enough to notice you are slightly different,” said Echo.

“ _Thud_!” The sound of air being sliced again fills the silence as a second dagger sinks into the wood exactly next to Klark’s first throw.

“And are you suggesting this is a bad different?”

Echo bites the inside of her cheek at the question. How would she know if it’s a bad thing if she can’t even really describe what’s off with Klark?

“I am not sure…” A third knife, not even a hairline away from the others, hits the target as Echo continues to pry Klark, “well I guess whatever it is it sure hasn’t impacted your accuracy.”

“There’s just a lot on my mind. Maybe my worry for Demetri is finally starting to show.”

“Perhaps, but I still feel it’s something different. I am not sure how to describe it, but it’s almost as if your eyes are softer.”

A fourth knife joins the board with the others, “Softer?”

“Yes, like not as harsh. Like more radiant? But then I find you more distracted at the same time. Er…well I don’t really know. Now that we talk about it, it sounds silly doesn’t it?”

The small smirk Klark gives speaks for itself. So Echo decides to change the direction of the conversation.

“I have noticed you have taken a liking to the Skai Councilor. What is her name again?”

“Raven.”

“Want to talk about that?”

“About?”

“Well I did not expect you to become so _friendly_ with someone whose clan you despise. It’s just ironic that’s all.”

Klark laughs at the statement, “I agree, it’s unexpected. I just like the girl’s company, she’s different than anyone I’ve met before.”

“Oh! So that must be it!” Echo claps her hands. “The great heir of Azgeda has a crush.”

The fifth knife hits the target slightly harder than the rest and Echo cannot tell if it is due to Klark’s annoyance or concentration.

“No. I will admit I am attracted to the girl, but not at all sexually. We just, what was her words…. Oh right, click. It’s hard to describe but it almost feels as if we have known each other for a lifetime.”

“But still, out of all the clans you choose to befriend a Skaikru?”

“I will admit since leaving Azgeda’s borders I am beginning to believe that my view on somethings may have been slightly distorted. So yes, I guess you are sort of right, this trip has changed me.”

Echo dramatically places her hand on her chest and releases an over exaggerated gasp, “Are you suggesting Mother’s teachings are not all correct? Who are you and what have you done with to the loyal heir to Azgeda?”

“Well I guess that’s what happens when we experience the world outside of our borders. We learn how to separate our truths from facts.”

Echo tilts her head slightly in puzzlement. Such a strange phrase, even for the wise Klark.

“Facts from truths? It appears someone has spent sometime pondering life. Perhaps this is why mother has always wanted to keep you under lock in key; your deep thinking could unleash the rebellious nature we all know is hiding inside you. Can you imagine the look on her face when she learns you befriended a Skai girl of all people?”

“A scene we will never know as such a detail will be excluded from our reports.” Klark flashes Echo a playful glare while squaring up to release the last dagger.

“Fiiiiine Klark. I will not say anything only if you tell me what other rebellious things you have gotten yourself into since we’ve escaped mother’s eyes.”

“Discovering she is this world’s very own Picasso.” A husky voice from behind the two sisters makes Echo slightly jump as Klark releases her final throw. Her own skittish reaction makes Echo feel slightly embarrassed. A warrior like her should have heard the soft crunch of footsteps approaching.

Turning towards the sound of the intruder, Echo is surprised to see the Commander, free of kohl, intently staring at Klark. Echo watches with curiosity as Klark presses her lips together into a fine line. Echo has no idea what a Picasso is or if it is code for some sort of threat, but one thing is certain the gaze between Klark and this unexpected guest is very intense.

“Commander, General Anya,” said Echo to the surprising visitors.

“Echo.”

Not once does the Commander’s eyes leave her sister’s. Echo cannot tell the nature of the exchange, so decides to take control of the situation, “To what do we owe this audience? Have our _kwin_ and I missed a call for a meeting?”

“No, I am only here to request an audience with Klark.”

“Yes of course.” The request surprises Echo, but she does not show it. Pointing towards the forest she continues, “There’s a small trail right there. It’s quite lovely, it even leads to a creek.”

Echo notices the not so subtle look the Commander’s General gives the Commander. Rolling her eyes, the Commander waves the General off.

“It will be fine Anya, we will not be gone too long. Head back to the camp with Echo, if we are not back by late afternoon, then you may come looking for us.”

Both Echo and the General shift uncomfortably. The thought of her sister alone with the Commander makes Echo slightly nervous. It’s not that Klark can’t hold her own, she would be able to protect herself if the Commander decides to pull a fast one. But it’s the fact she does not know the Commander’s intentions. This is the first time Echo has seen the two interact since the formal meeting and from the way the two keep staring at each other, Echo knows Klark has left out a few major details. 

“Very well, but I would advise you to be back on time unless you would like the Coalition’s entire army scouring the forest for you,” said General Anya.

Turning on the heels of her boots Echo follows General Anya’s lead as they make their way back to the camp. A glimmer catches Echo’s eye reminding her of Klark’s knifes deeply imbedded into the wood.

“Just a moment General!” Reaching for the black leather carrier Echo quickly jogs to the target board. When Echo’s eyes meet the daggers, she lets out an unexpected gasp.

“What is it?” questions Anya.

“Nothing, I just thought there was one missing. These are very special to our _kwin_.” A lie of course. As far as Echo knows these knives hold little significance to Klark. They are more on the fancy side, so it is possible Anya will buy the story. Looking down again Echo’s eyes fall upon the last throw. Unlike the others it sits five notches from the “X”. 

Ever since Klark has mastered her throw not once has Echo seen Klark miss a target. Echo’s eyes widen at her thoughts. What on earth is going on with Klark and what does the Commander have to do with it?

* * *

**_KLARK_ **

The warm air tousles through her long, elaborate red braids. Out of all the things Klark could be doing today, a private walk with the Commander was not expected. Since the time they had spent painting a few days ago strange feelings Klark never thought to be possible – especially towards the Commander – have ruffled up and she has been trying her best to avoid them.

When Lexa placed a hand on top of Klark’s to guide the paint brush, something inside of Klark broke open. It is hard to describe, but since then it is like the entirety of Klark’s every thought and feelings have become focused around Lexa.

Sure, Klark has had many crushes before, but never with an intensity like this and if Klark is honest with herself it scares her. Especially since Lexa is someone Klark thought she hated but is also the person Klark is tasked to eliminate. Klark clenches her jaw. Obviously, this emerging infatuation is problematic. It complicates everything Klark has been taught to believe in.

Which is why over the last few days Klark has gone out of her way to avoid the Commander entirely. Childish yes, but she feels petrified of the implications this could cause. Klark has a sworn duty to her people, the _bloka_ , and her Queen.

A Queen who has assigned Klark with the task of placing the Commander’s head in a box. A task centred around an ancient prophecy, whose fulfilment will supposedly better her people. One that Klark knows she must fulfill if she ever wishes to be welcomed back into Azgeda again. It was never explicitly said, but the threat was implied: return with the prize or do not return at all. If Klark fails, she has no doubts Nia’s assassins will be sent for her. 

The people may favour Klark and believe her to be the winter wolf, but her mother’s killers are exceptionally loyal. Brainwashed from birth, all have been taught to be supernaturally patient. Which means they tend to strike when least expected. All it would take is one drop of poison, a well-placed arrow, or a knife slicing across an unexpecting throat for Klark to meet her demise. Such a fate she would rather avoid.

There is a part of her that feels slightly guilty she has even let her mind become torn between her loyalty to her people and the thought of exploring these new feelings with Lexa. Sure, her mother is not perfect. It has become clear that Nia has hid some facts from her, but does distorting a few minor details really deserve Klark’s betrayal? Klark sighs, probably not.

Nia took Klark in when she needed it most. Doesn’t Nia at least deserve an explanation before Klark decides to throw everything away? Klark presses her lips into a fine line. She knows such a conversation will never happen. This internal conflict she is facing is something Klark will have to figure out on her own. Which is why she has taken time away from Lexa to sort out all these conflicting feelings. But yet here she is, in a place she so desperately wanted to avoid.

“Klark?”

Klark shakes her head as her own name pulls her out of her thoughts. She has been in such deep reflection she hasn’t noticed they have been walking this path in complete silence. As they get to the edge of the water the Commander loudly clears her throat.

“Klark.”

“Commander.”

“Lexa is fine.”

“Yes of course, Lexa.” Klark gestures towards the water, “This is the creek Echo was talking about, isn’t it beautiful?” Klark bites the end of her tongue at the poor attempt to avoid the inevitable conversation. A tactic Klark knows Lexa is smart enough to sniff out. With slight embarrassment Klark looks over to Lexa whose jaw slightly shifts side to side.

“You have been avoiding me.”

“I have not.”

“Do not lie to me Klark of the Ice. I have noticed over the past few days how you disappear as soon as we make eye contact. Have I offended you in any way? If that is the case, I am sorry. But please, I would like to know what I did so I can avoid doing it again.”

“You have not done anything wrong Lexa.” In efforts to suppress the rising guilt, Klark clenches her fist together. Focusing in on the way her nails indent the palm of her hand, she attempts to control her emotions. “It’s me. I guess I am having troubles adjusting to the world outside Azgeda.”

“Separating the truth from fact?”

“Yes. I just feel so torn and I do not know what to do.”

“Torn?”

“Yes.”

“And I have something to do with it?”

Klark closes her eyes to cease the building tears. Never has she felt so split between two competing worlds. Her teeth press into the inside of her cheek in the hopes the subtle pain will suppress the desire to speak about her feelings any further. This is not her. She is not emotional like this; she needs to be careful as disclosing too much information could jeopardize her people. That is something Klark would never allow, but to her annoyance her emotions can’t be controlled. 

As a single tear slides down the side of Klark’s face the sound of rocks sliding underneath the Commander’s black boots meets Klark’s ears. The familiar smell of musky earth becomes intoxicating. The proximity of Lexa is like a spell, unravelling the voice Klark is trying so hard to suppress down.

“Yes.” Klark’s voice is a mere whisper, crackling slightly as a few more tears pool in the corners of her eyes.

A hand’s soft caress across Klark’s hair startles her slightly as Lexa’s timid touch places a fallen braid back into its proper place. The touch feels almost electric as Lexa traces down along Klark’s cheek stopping at the back of Klark’s neck.

After a moment of hesitation, Klark feels herself being gently pulled into a secure embrace. Klark knows she should resist. Giving in will only make things more confusing, but just as Klark is about to pull away soothing like patterns begin to massage themselves into the base of her hairline.

Without further hesitation Klark surrenders full force into the hug. Firmly she wraps her arms around Lexa’s muscular frame burying her face deep into the crevice of Lexa’s neck. The action seems to surprise Lexa as she adjusts her footing to brace the pair from toppling over. In any other circumstance Klark would have been embarrassed by almost plowing the Commander down, but right now her mind is lost in the world of Lexa.

They had walked into the forest as a powerful Commander and a feared Heir, but in this moment all the titles they hold mean nothing. They are just two girls burdened by responsibility, conflicting loyalties, and past lost. Klark and Lexa. Nothing more, nothing less.

Something new begins stirring in Klark. She has never felt this before, but through this uncharacteristic display of vulnerability she has found the very thing she has been searching for since losing her memories: a sense of home.

Never has Klark’s heart felt so safe and grounded. The missing piece Klark has been longing for has found its place in her once empty heart. Klark had been scared before, but now she is terrified. Now that she has felt Lexa’s touch, Klark is not sure she could live with herself knowing it was her who destroyed it. In one embrace Klark has gained everything but lost everything all at the same time. As if to read her thoughts Lexa gently squeezes in reassurance.

“It is okay to be scared.” The heat from Lexa’s raspy whisper tickles the hair beside Klark’s ear.

“I do not… I cannot...I feel so strange.”

“I cannot explain it either. I never thought I could feel this way again.”

Lexa releases from the embrace and gently brings her hands up to the sides of Klark’s face. The intensity of the stare does not waver as Lexa's two thumbs smear Klark’s face paint in attempts to brush away the falling tears slipping down Klark’s chiseled cheeks.

As the light breeze dances across Klark’s smudged cheeks, two soft lips plant themselves lightly at the top of the Klark’s forehead. Sending an array of shivers shooting down Klark’s spine.

As Lexa rests her forehead against Klark’s, Klark feels warm splashes fall onto her own face, “If you feel the same way, please stop avoiding me Klark.”

The smell of the Lexa’s sweet breath swirls around, pulling Klark further into a trance. Klark’s head is screaming at her to stop, to not throw everything away, but at the same time the feeling in her heart is telling her otherwise. Before Klark can rationalize with herself, her leather boots creak and she extends onto the tips of her toes.

This kiss is much gentler than Klark expected, but still sends Klark’s stomach twisting into butterflies. For such a fearsome warrior, Lexa is surprisingly very delicate. Slowly Lexa takes control of the kiss as she backs Klark up against a large boulder. A soft moan escapes Klark as her back is pressed against a large, grey stone. Its cool temperature finds its way through Klark’s cotton, erupting a trail of goosebumps down the length of her back.

Lexa’s proximity had been one thing, but after tasting her, Klark knows she is in dangerously deep. Whatever rationalization Klark’s head was trying to tell her earlier has completely dissolved. If only Nia could see her now. Who would have thought Nia’s masterplan would begin to fracture under the weight of a simple kiss.

* * *

**_ANYA_ **

Tapping her fingers impatiently on the war table Anya watches as another drip of wax slides down the yellow candle. Looking at how much the candle’s height has dwindled; she can tell it is almost late afternoon. Which means Lexa better be here any moment or else she will have to deal Anya’s wrath.

Lexa never told her the reason she had wanted to seek an exclusive audience with Klark, but Anya isn’t a fool. She has noticed the way those emerald eyes soften when they gaze upon the heir. It might not be apparent to others, but Anya can tell how Lexa’s attention shifts when Klark is near. Lexa rarely wears her emotions on her sleeve, but it’s Anya’s long relationship with her that allows Anya to pick on all these subtle changes in Lexa’s mannerisms.

Mannerisms Anya has only seen Lexa do two times before. The first had been with Costia and then with Clarke. Which is why Anya is becoming quite worried with Lexa’s attachment to the heir. It is not that she isn’t happy that Lexa could have the chance to move on, but Anya worries for the implications it could cause if things with the Ice _kwin_ become intense.

With Costia, it was young love. Mischievous grins, stolen kisses, endless laugher. It had been sweet and light, so when Costia had been killed the lightness that was in Lexa hardened up like a stone. That was until the sky dropped its princess.

Right away Anya had an inclination that Clarke would be someone special to Lexa. In the first meeting Lexa was all Commander, fierce, intimidating and prepared to defend her people from the invaders from the sky. Gradually however, the hostility towards the sky people lessened. Anya watched as Clarke slowly dismantled the fortress around Lexa’s guarded heart only to grab hold of it. A grip that had been so strong that when Clarke’s body became one with the ground, Lexa’s heart went with it.

The first few weeks after Clarke’s death was by far the toughest. Lexa became someone Anya couldn’t even recognize. From dusk to dawn Lexa remained isolated in her room, refusing herself the necessities of life. She refused to bathe, eat, or see any form of human life. In fact, the only time she had spoke was when she demanded another bottle of Azgeda vodka. Between Indra and herself, they shared Heda’s duties, but both worried how long the Coalition could stay intact if the other leaders learned about their Heda’s behaviour.

One night however, Anya had decided enough was enough. Lexa was of course allowed to mourn the loss of her wife, and frankly by that time Anya was not worried for the Coalition’s health, but for Lexa’s. Every step Anya took up the staircase Anya rehearsed her speech over and over. But when she had got to Lexa’s room, it was lifeless. The only evidence someone had been there at all was the smoldering fireplace and pieces of a broken vodka bottle strewn across the floor.

Anya remembers being instantly overcome with worry as no one had seen Lexa leave her room. After frantically searching the Commander’s tower with no further luck, Anya sent out Lexa’s personal guard. All sworn to secrecy of course, they tried to find the whereabouts of the Commander. Had it not been for the Commander’s horse being absent from the stables it was as if Lexa disappeared without a trace.

The sun rose, and then it fell. It rose, and then it fell. By the third day Anya realized Lexa did not want to be found and had no choice but to send their fastest messenger to Ton DC and summon Indra back. Unbeknownst to Polis, the Commander was missing, and Anya had no idea how long she could cover it up and hold the Coalition together alone.

Then after a tense week or so, the city stirred with excitement as their beloved Commander strolled through the streets on top her black stallion. Thick khol had been streaked down her stoic face; Lexa no doubt returned as the strong Commander the people had always known. Anya never did ask where Lexa went, but the sabbatical _healed_ Lexa and Anya remembers how diligently Lexa jumped back into her duties as if those last few months hadn’t happened.

But as Anya spent more time watching Lexa, Anya thought she could see the familiar hardness and hollowness remerge – which concerned both Indra and Anya herself. And from the worried exchanges the Generals had shared, they both knew the soft side to Lexa was most likely gone forever.

 _“Lexa please, you do not have to do this.”_ Anya remembers the way she pleaded with Lexa as they stood in front of Clarke’s old room.

_“I said board it up.”_

Instantly the woodworker diligently pounded planks over the large, arched doorframe.

_“This is a mistake. She may be gone, but just like Costia, she will always be a part of you. This barrier will do nothing for you, but make you forget yourself. Your real self!”_

_“My only mistake is that I took every moment with Clarke for granted. But there is no time to dwell on the past, we both know the dead are gone and the living are hungry.”_

_“Lexa, please. You need to cope. Shutting away your past will not help you heal. You need to face it, please do not do this. Clarke was too great for her memory to be boarded up like this.”_

_“Enough!”_ Lexa’s hand silenced Anya’s pleas, _“This is not my first loss Anya and I will not be making the same mistakes as I had with Costia’s death. The time I have spent alone I have learnt my own ways of coping and boarding this room up is one of them.”_

_“I am sorry for overstepping, but I love you Lexa and I feel like forgetting Clarke like this is a mistake.”_

Anya remembers watching how Lexa’s face had fell. It was the first time since Lexa returned that she had shown any signs of emotion. A strong, confidant voice dropped to a barely audible whisper.

_“How could I forget my fallen star Anya? She was my bonded, the light for my home on the ground.”_

And just as Lexa turned to leave Anya remembers calling out to her, _“Do you believe it again?”_

_“Believe what Anya?”_

_“That love… love is weakness.”_

_“How could I Anya when it was Clarke who was my greatest strength?”_

The sound of the tent’s flap pulling back plucks Anya from her thoughts as she glares at the hooded girl before her.

“You are lucky! A few more minutes and I would have sent out the largest search party the Coalition has ever seen!” Lexa’s cloaked figure quickly dips into her private quarters; a place Anya barely hesitates to follow. “Well, was your meeting successful?

“Erm yes…However, I did not expect you to be here.”

“Where else would I be? I wanted to know the exact moment you returned. I don’t trust her Lexa! Wait Lexa, are you even listening to me? What are you looking for?” Anya stares with puzzlement as Lexa’s hands quickly comb through a basket of assorted selfcare items.

“Face towels. I am certain Niylah put some here this morning.”

“There, on the desk by your all soaps.” Anya points to the small wooden table as she squints her eyes with suspicion at Lexa’s sheepish behaviour. “Why do you need a towel this moment? And why on earth do you still have your cloak on? Are you trying to hide something from me?”

“No! What could I possibly be hiding?”

“I do not know Lexa, why don’t you tell me?”

Anya’s eyes widen as the cloak hits the floor, “Lexa….”

Lexa had left this morning perfectly clean, but the mischievously grinned girl before Anya is anything but. Smears of black and white paint scatter haphazardly along Lexa’s forehead, on her lips, along the sides of her neck, and down past the v-neck of her shirt. Undeniable evidence confirming Anya’s gravest concerns.

Anya wants to slap Lexa for her carelessness, but immediately recoils the idea when she notices how a once familiar softness resides in Lexa’s features. Lexa’s lips are curled into a smile, a real and genuine smile. A side of Lexa that has been missing for years. It’s a sight that makes Anya’s anger lessen.

“Did you not stop to think about how the other leaders would react if they knew you spent an afternoon locking lips with not just an Azgedian warrior but their future Queen?! I mean if this is not grounds to claim favouritism, I do not know what is!” Anya whips a face towel over to Lexa, who even in a lovesick coma has no troubles catching the cloth, “and not only that, how can you let yourself trust the girl?! We both know Nia is up to something and you would be foolish to let yourself be blinded that the heir is entirely innocent of these schemes. It is not that I don’t like seeing you happy Lexa, but I am just worried about you. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“No.”

“No?! Then why Lexa? Why risk everything!”

_“Keryon soujona.”_

Anya blinks in bewilderment. Replaying the words in her head just to make sure she heard Lexa correctly, “Soul traveller? Are you certain?”

“Yes,” said Lexa as she pours water into the basin. “I have never felt this way since my Clarke. I cannot describe why, but I can tell my soul is being pulled towards Klark.”

“I do not understand, _keryon soujon_ is only supposed to happen once. Why her and why now?”

“I do not know.”

“And you are going to pursue it?”

“Yes.” Its is quick whipped answer with not even the slightest hesitation. Shrugging, Lexa dips the towel into water and begins to wipe away evidence of the heir down along side her neck.

“My goodness Lexa, you have known her for only two weeks!”

“Time means nothing. It only took me one meeting with Clarke to know she would become someone special.”

“Lexa you are more than capable of separating feelings from duty. But you must think of the broader implications this could cause! If what you are saying is true, that these, well these feelings go beyond the simplicity of a crush do you not think it would be best to leave this be? This isn’t as simple as your stable hand’s daughter, or a Skai princess. Klark is Azgeda’s future Queen! I beg of you Lexa, plea-”

“Enough!” Lexa raises her hand silencing Anya. “As always, I appreciate your honesty Anya. But if you know I am more than capable to separate such things you should trust that I will not do anything rash to jeopardize all that I have left.”

“I am sorry Lexa; I am just worry for you my child. I don’t like this at all, but just promise me you will be careful.”

“I promise.”

Anya sighs. If this is Lexa’s desire, then Anya must respect the decision. But that doesn’t mean Anya won’t do everything she can to solve the mysteries around Klark. Which means at first light tomorrow she will be paying a visit to the _oudas newana._


	30. Keryon Soujon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Anya seeks answers, she finds her way to a meeting with the Commander's shaman. But she can't decide if the wisdom received has given her clarity or hungry for more answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday! Alright, so slightly small, slower chapter right now. But fear not, stay tuned there's a long one heading your way very shortly. Full of action and feels. And maybe further confirmation on Demetri's whereabouts - but I won't give anything away. 
> 
> I am still working on comments, all of you have been far too kind and I appreciate every comment. I promise I will get around to responding. Thanks for reading. LMS.

**_ANYA_ **

Rubbing her tired eyes, Anya makes her way down a small, unworn path. The trees are much different than the ones back home, but the density is just as thick. She was told by Nyko that if she follows the trail from the furthest corner of their camp Anya will find who she seeks.

Another yawn disrupts her thoughts. Usually Anya sleeps well, but after confirming Lexa’s intentions with the heir, she spent all night tossing and turning with worry. Lexa’s smile proves the void in her chest is diminishing. Which is something Anya is happy to see as it gives her hope that Lexa might finally move on from Clarke. But it is with _who_ that troubles her.

After her discussion with Lexa, Octavia had pulled Anya into the shadows and told Anya about the horrors Octavia learned from Pike's conversation. Anya creases her brows; she has learned two things. First, it confirms the feelings Anya has for Pike. Never has she liked the man. His arrogance is suffocating and it is almost as if he believes he is better than the other grounders. Providing valid evidence to his heart wrenching claims of Ironoak's tragedy. 

Secondly, if what Octavia says is true. Klark would never have survived the raid, because as far as Anya knows, Klark’s propagandic story does not include miraculously surviving a gunshot wound to the head. Further proving that the whole essence of the heir is nothing but fallacious.

Which is the part that is the most troubling. If Klark is not actually from Ironoak, then _who_ and _where_ does she come from? Anya clenches her jaw at the puzzling thought. And most importantly, what purpose does it serve the Ice Queen to falsify Klark’s story?

Perhaps the story of an orphan turned future Queen inspires the Ice people? Or maybe it is a more fitting storyline for Nia’s obsessive fulfillment of that old Azgedian prophecy? Whatever it is, Anya is certain Klark is not who she says she is. A concerning conclusion seeing how Lexa has admitted that her feelings for Klark run much deeper than at a superficial level.

Which is why Anya has decided she will confront the heir about this later today. A rash decision Anya has made just this morning – most likely a result of an unrested mind. But how can she not? If Lexa is in danger it is Anya’s duty to protect her. Especially if Lexa has become so blinded by these so-called soul traveling feelings. Ancient beliefs Anya isn’t the most experienced with.

It is not that Anya doesn’t believe there is a spirit world. She is a spiritual being herself and is very knowledgeable in the basic fundamentals of the Trikru’s beliefs. But over the last decade, the duties of mentoring Lexa have distracted her from furthering her understanding in the Trikru's more abstract teachings. So before Anya questions the heir, she feels it would be most wise to gain a little more wisdom. The smell of incense informs Anya that she is close to getting her answers and after a few more steps the _oudas newana's_ black tent comes into view.

Out of all the clans, the Trikru are by far the most spiritual. An ideology heavily based on the idea that there are many different realms interlocked together by a living force moving through all things. The mind itself may not understand such concepts, but a person’s spirit can.

The spirit not only connects the human body to the moving force, but it also serves as the gateway to the other realms. Which is why bodies are burned when the physical form dies as it is a way to let the soul escape and find peace in another realm. The Coalition’s unity has caused many clans to adopt similar practices, but it is the Trikru clan where the _oudas newana_ resides _._

They are called _oudas newana_ , because it is believed upon death of the previous shaman, the spirit does not travel to another realm. Instead it finds a new host body to provide continuing council to the people on the ground. 

And if one wished to seek council, they are usually found somewhere within a radius around Polis. They do have a reputation of being difficult to find, but if looking hard enough they can always be found lurking in the shadows no more than a day’s walk from the Commander’s proximity.

Anya has met this _oudas newana_ only twice. The first had been when they rushed to Lexa’s side to perform a ritual just minutes after a blood-stained Lexa emerged victorious from the conclave. And the second had been when Anya called upon them for council to calm a distraught Lexa. The Skaikru’s ritual to bury their dead had caused Lexa to fear Clarke’s spirit would get stuck in this realm, never to be reunited with Lexa again. But it was eventually concluded that since Clarke succumbed to the flame, her soul would have been released so being buried in the ground would not be an issue.

At the shaman’s tent entrance Anya pulls back the heavy canvas, with slight hesitation she steps inside. Her eyes immediately fall to the tent’s centre. The embers of a once large fire illuminate a vast collection of flowers and herbs tied onto a spit hanging a few feet above the low, drying heat.

To the left a small unstable looking table, assembled from logs and worn rope, hold a variety of different sized clay bowls. Straining her neck with slight curiosity Anya notices that each bowl houses different mixtures. Some with flowers, some with leaves, one even contains a rabbit skull. What purpose this items serve is beyond her, but again her expertise is war not spirituality.

“I have been waiting for you,” an old, raspy voice calls out to her. Anya eyes dart to the sound focusing in on a cloaked figure blending into the darkness of the shadows. A slight chill runs down Anya’s spine. She did not notice them before, but the pale skin on their hands almost glows in the shadows. Anya watches with curiosity as a powder is tossed onto the smouldering embers. The action sends a smoky fragrance swirling around the tent. Inhaling to draw the aromatic smell in, it is a smell that reminds Anya of the forest back home.

“I apologize, I did not see you sitting there,” said Anya. 

“Ah yes, sometimes the answer we seek is right in front of us, hiding behind the blackness of the shadows.” A hoarse, crackle like chuckle escapes from behind the hood of the black cloak. The laugh causes Anya to narrow her eyebrows in slight annoyance. She has never been one for riddles and has a feeling this conversation is going to be filled with many. “Come child, take a seat over here, from the unsettlement in your soul I feel as though we have much to discuss.”

The pale hand points to an empty stool perpendicular to theirs. As she takes a seat the rickety stool creaks slightly under her weight. 

“I appreciate you seeing me unannounced.”

“Of course, my child. I had an intuition I would be receiving a visitor today. However, I am quite surprised it is you General. If I were to be honest, I expected this visit to be from someone else.”

“How can you say that? You do not even know what my question is.” Anya bites her tongue slightly; she doesn’t mean to lash out so impatiently. Apparently, the plan to confront Klark later has made her on edge, and truthfully she isn’t in the mood for such games.

“Do I not? The confusion in your soul is telling me otherwise. But your uncertainty does not stem from your own personal experience does it? Rather you are seeking answers for someone else. Someone I sense is remarkably close to you perhaps General?”

Her eyes widen slightly in the accuracy at the shaman’s statement, “Um well…yes”

“Hmmm as I figured. So, tell me child what do you wish to discuss?”

“ _keryon soujon_ ”

“ _keryon soujon?”_

“Yes, _keryon soujon._ Soul travel. _”_

“Hmmm I see you seek counsel on a very complicated topic. What is it that you would like to know?”

“Everything.”

“Everything? Unfortunately, that would take years to learn everything General. Time I suspect your impatient nature does not have, but I will do my best to summarize. So where to start?” The _oudas newana_ strokes their long beard in thought, “Ah yes, I think I have the perfect starting point. _Keryon soujon_ is a concept that started the tradition you know as bonding. During the process of bonding individuals promise themselves to each other. It is the belief that this promise will allow our human spirits to find each other in the next realm of life. However, through my experience, very few bonding experiences are an actual true form of _keryon soujon_.”

“So are you saying that our bonding ceremonies are pointless?”

“No, just different than a true _keryon soujon.”_ The pale hand grabs a staff and with a sight shake begins to drag the tip of it into the loose dirt at Anya’s feet. Soon two overlapping circles are etched into the ground. “Pretend that this circle here represents the realm of today. And this circle over here represents where your soul will travel to once your physical body becomes one with the earth. But here…” The end of the staff is placed into the soil where the two circles overlap, “is the gateway connecting two realms. Many spirits, even if they are bonded by the grounder ceremony, will pass through this gateway without hesitation. On the other side they will get rebirthed into a new body and the cycle of life just continues again.

However, if two spirits are truly bound together by _keryon soujon_ the spirits will not settle into a new realm without the other. But will continue to travel to different gateways until they feel the pull of their bonded. Once they find each other, it is then the two spirits come together and will pass through the same realm’s gateway to be rebirthed into a new set of human forms. It is the spirits’ hope that in this new life they will find each other again.”

Anya rubs her temples as she processes the _oudas newana's_ words, “And how do you know if it is true _keryon soujon_?”

“It can be hard to decipher as many mistake human feelings of love as a sign. But even though love is present in _keryon soujon_ it is more complicated than that. In _keryon soujon_ when the bonded are in the same proximity it could be described as a gravitational like pull. It is a feeling hard to forget.”

“Is it possible to have more than one?”

“hmmm, to find two before your spirit travels to the next lifetime?”

“Yes.”

The pale hand again runs over the wiry, white beard cascading down the front of their cloak as if considering the general’s words, “Possible perhaps, but unlikely General.”

“Unlikely?”

“When two souls truly bond together a change happens in their composition.”

“A change?”

“Yes.” The shaman slowly rises from the chair and with heavy reliance on a long, wooden staff, limps over to the small table. With curiosity Anya watches as frail hands bring over a tray containing three small bowls. “What do you see General?”

“Colours.”

“Precisely. Let us pretend each colour represents a person’s spirit. Hold out your hands.”

Without hesitation Anya turns her hands exposing the soft flesh of calloused palms to the shaman. Soon a cool sensation meets her upturned hands.

“Each hand holds two different colours. Black and white, equal to two different spirits. Now...” The shaman mimics a motion as if lathering a bar of soap. With a reassuring nod Anya replicates the motion, pressing the colours together. “What do you see now?”

“Grey.”

“Exactly. When two spirits bond pieces from one mix with the other. This change in composition realigns the energy which causes a desire for the pair to be close each other. This is the powerful mechanism the spirits will use to find each other in the next life and is also the cause for that same gravitational pull felt in this life. Are you with me so far General?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“So now, let’s consider your question.” Dipping their fingers into the third dish, the colour blue stains down lanky fingers. “This blue represents the third soul. Give me your left hand.” With a slight tremble they begin to draw circles onto Anya’s palm mixing the colours together. “Now what do you see when you compare it to your right?”

“A darker grey”

“But it is still grey. Even though the blue made the other slightly darker, it still contains the base of the first two colours. Once an energy is formed into one, it is immensely difficult to separate.”

“I see….,” said Anya taking in the colouring on her palms, “unlikely, but not impossible right?”

“Yes, my child. Unlikely, but not impossible.”

“Okay what if upon the death of one bonded the pull from the one alive in this realm is so strong it stops the released spirit from traveling through the gate? I guess what I am trying to say is what if the spirit stays in the now and implants itself into another?”

“Another peculiar question general. What you have described is how the _oudas newana’s_ spirit lives on. When I die my soul will implant into another in this realm, the realm you and I live in. Meaning my feelings and memories along with the feelings and memories of all the past _oudas newana_ will be implanted into the new shaman.”

“So, it is possible?!”

“Perhaps.”

“perhaps?”

“Yes general. It is possible, but I fear myself or no other _oudas newana_ have witnessed such an occurrence.”

 _Possible, but unlikely…No other_ _oudas newanas have witnessed such an occurrence._ Anya presses her lips together as she silently replays the shaman’s words. “So how…” Anya begins out loud before stopping herself from saying too much. The last thing she wants is to look ridiculous in front of the wisest person on the ground. 

“Ah yes, to see or not to see, that is the question.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Anya narrows her eyes with annoyance.

Another soft chuckle escapes their lips. For such an old person, they possess an immense amount of patience with Anya's sharp tone.

“One of my predecessors had read once that things are not always as they seem; remember General, the first appearance often deceives many, what is meant to be perceived can sometimes be carefully hidden.”

The drifting smoke swirls around Anya’s sitting frame as she contemplates the twisting words. From the height of the candle she can tell she has stayed much longer than she had wanted to. Especially if she plans to confront Klark before the heir heads of to the training grounds today.

“Thank you for your council. I feel like I have much to reflect upon today.”

Anya is not sure if her meeting with the shaman has given her clarity or has left her more confused. But one thing is for certain, the story of Klark is full of deceit and to perceive the hidden truth Anya will need to look much more closely before Lexa can get hurt.


	31. Chapter 31

Okay I know, this is not the chapter you were expecting and I apologize in advance for the email notification that spammed you if you’re a subscriber.

But after some thought, I will be taking a short (weekish or so?) break from posting. I value everyone’s feedback and comments so much. And this being my first piece of literature I’ve ever written the constructive criticism and positive feedback has meant a lot.

With saying that I have also been getting a lot of directed hate in a few comments and in my Insta DM’s. So like I said, I’m taking a small mental health sabbatical from posting.

It makes me happy that my story has provoked passion and emotion in my readers, but I also need this time to remind myself thats this is free fiction and it should be fun for everyone. Including myself. 

I don’t want to give any plot away, but please remember that when I do start uploading again these chapters are within a short time apart. Not weeks or months. Please give these characters time to figure out what we all have known from chapter 1. I recognize there’s only a small amount of chapters left, but for those interactions that do not get touched on, I have been working on one shots. And once this fic is said and done, I’d be willing to take requests too if the story didn’t touch enough on something you were hoping for.

And please trust me when I say pike will pay. I’m not a monster, but I am trying to make a realistic story. Anya or lexa can’t really do anything about pike. As mentioned in one of the chapters pike’s actions were before both Azgeda and the skaikru were a part of the Coalition. But with saying that, I promise his time will come and he will get what he deserves.

Looking forward to continuing the story with you all soon. Thanks for your support and as always, thanks for reading - LMS 


	32. Emotional Release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all happy Sunday! After some much needed time off imma back. Let's get this story finished - thanks for reading LMS.

**_ANYA_ **

Anya walks briskly into Azgeda’s camp. It is the first time she has seen past the outer rows of tents, and even in her haste she admires how impeccably organized it is. Unlike the other clans’ somewhat haphazard like designs, the ice nation tents are laid out like the Trikru’s.

The rows and columns are neatly aligned in a such away to protect the large, blue tent situated at the core of the camp. From its size it is nearly as large as Lexa’s which means Anya does not have to guess whose tent that belongs to. Anya can feel that her arrival has caused many questioning glares from the ice nation warriors scattered throughout the camp. Further suggesting that Anya’s presence is unannounced.

Once closer to the tent, the heavy presence of guards confirms Anya’s intuition. The number of warriors is almost overkill and Anya cannot help but roll her eyes for the unnecessity of it all – even Lexa does not request such protection. 

As Anya sizes up the warriors, one catches her eye. If she recalls he was one of the high-ranking generals that had accompanied Nia to Polis more than five years ago. If her memory serves her correctly, Beorn is his name? Anya creases her eyebrows with slight confusion. It seen as a great honor to guard the entrance of a leader’s tent, but usually a general of Beorn’s status would never be chosen to stand guard. A placement Anya finds odd. In fact, everything about this heir is odd and Anya’s visit to the shaman has only further confused the mystery surrounding Klark. Straightening her spine, Anya approaches Beorn. His large frame towers over her, but she doesn’t let his stature intimidate her.

“Trikru General, your presence is a surprise.” Beorn’s deep voice rumbles into the air. It is void of any warm welcome, which doesn’t surprise Anya considering the history between the Trikru and Azgeda is more or less a little hostile.

“I was hoping to have a private audience with Klark.”

“Our _kwin_ is relaxing before the sparring ring. Such a time is very important to her, I doubt she will want to see anyone.”

“I am the right hand of Heda. To deny me is to deny Heda herself. If your _kwin_ is too busy to see me than that is her right. But as far as I know you are not the _kwin_ and you cannot decide if Klark will see me or not.”

Steel grey eyes narrow into two slits as Beorn appears to carefully contemplate his next action. After a few tense moments, his large grip strays away from his sword’s pommel and gestures towards a wiry young warrior. The young warrior’s hair reminds Anya of campfire flames and from his attentiveness to the Beorn’s low whispers, Anya can only presume the redhead is his _seken_. 

The _seken_ with the flame like hair dips into the blue tent as Anya and Beorn continue to size each other up in silence. Neither daring to break the intense eye contact as if this was a moment of challenge.

“Our _kwin_ has agreed to see you Trikru general.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, alone.”

Just as Anya passes through the threshold of the tent, Beorn’s large hand grabs firmly onto her shoulder, momentarily stopping her in her place.

“For some reason, our _Kwin_ has chosen to place her trust in your clan. Something I have chosen to not. Should Klark be blinded by her apparent affection for your kind, I promise I will not hesitate to take matters into my own hands. Something I am sure you would understand. Isn’t that right general?”

The accuracy of Beorn’s words hit Anya deep into her core, but she does not let the surprise of his remarks show on her face. Grunting in response to his threat Anya brushes away his large hand with more than a necessary force. Drawing in a nervous breath, she steps into the heir’s tent.

Immediately, the warmth from the fireplace provides a much warmer welcome as the resonating heat hits Anya’s high cheek bones. The first thing Anya notices is how similar the _kwin’s_ layout is to Heda’s tent. Several candles are situated on top the copious amounts of furniture placed throughout the area. From behind the illumination of candles Anya focuses in on a large throne raised atop a platform. It is equally beautiful as it is terrifying. And from the ivory colour, there is no doubt it is assembled from the bones of an accomplished kill. Another subtle way to display the _kwin’s_ ability as a killer.

The partition to the left cascades down from the roof, blocking off a section for the heir’s personal quarters. Taking in her surroundings, Anya realizes Klark is no where to be seen. Which means the only place for the heir is behind the partition. A place Anya never dreamed of wondering into without an invitation. But since the general’s _seken_ did say Anya’s request was granted, she hesitantly steps inside. Inhaling the warm air into her lungs, Anya steps into the heir’s private quarters.

“ _Kwin_ Klark?”

Another step further and Anya finds herself in awe of the elaborate décor surrounding the overwhelmingly expensive furnishings. It is no secret that since joining the Coalition, Azgeda has benefited the most economically, but it is not that their wealth was limited in the past. Since being one of the oldest clans, the monarch itself has accumulated much wealth. But over the last few years it is a wealth that has increased tenfold as other clans have sought out the precious metals of the Illoak mountains, white furs from its _paunas,_ or the smooth vodka’s distilled from its great lakes.

“General, what a surprise.” Klark’s voice startles Anya slightly. Turning towards the sound, Anya finds Klark calmly sitting on a cream leathered sofa as tattooed hands firmly wrap around the spine of a large book: _Military history of late Rome: 361-395._

“Klark,” said Anya dipping in respect.

“What can I do for you?” said Klark, “Hondo has told me you have a message from Heda. Has there been any word from the scouts?”

Anya cannot help but pick up the slight worried tone underlining the heir’s strong voice. Running her fingers through her hair Anya replies, “no, I am afraid not. The horizon still brings silence.”

“If you do not have a message from Heda, then what is the purpose of this audience?”

Anya slightly presses her lips together as she looks to Klark who patently waits for Anya’s response. It is the first time Anya has seen Klark without the protection of armour or her long sleeved formal wear. In fact, besides Klark’s usual painted face and red cascading hair, the heir is quite casual in her black slacks and sleeveless top.

A perfect way to showcase the stories of old scars. One in particular runs down the length of Klark’s toned arm. Weaving in and around the sleeve of tribal like tattoos artistically covering the majority of her pale skin. From the scar’s placement, the heir is lucky. If it happened a few hairs to the left, there is no denying an artery would have been nicked.

But it is the wolf tattoo tastefully etched into the flesh of Klark’s left hand that drags Anya back into reality. Anya silently curses at herself. She has acted like nothing but a brainless _branwada._ Anya has let her emotions get the best of her. Now here she is cornering the wolf behind Lexa’s back in a desperate attempt to scrap together any evidence that Klark is not who she says she is. It is rash and incredibly stupid, but now that Anya has made it clear there is no message from Heda there is no getting out of this one. Especially since too many suspicions have most likely arose with this unexpected audience.

Straightening her spine, Anya musters up her last bit of courage, “I know you are hiding something.”

Klark’s blue eyes narrow, assessing the intensity of Anya’s words, “General? I am not sure I understand, what is it you believe I am hiding?”

“You are not who you say you are. You can hide all you want behind your fancy title, but I feel it in my gut that you and your mother are up to something! So I am going to ask you again, who are you _really_ Klark?”

As if sensing a threat, Klark sets down the hard-covered book and runs her hand across the dagger strapped to the leg of her pants.

“I am hiding nothing Anya; besides how can something be hidden if it was never known to be lost in the first place?”

“Lies! You and the ice Queen are nothing but lies. I know you have it in for the Commander, your trickery may be blinding her, but I promise you I will not be fooled by your deceit.”

“General, if I knew better it sounds like you are accusing me of treason? Should I remind you whose tent you are in?”

“ _We_ have been watching you Klark. _We_ have heard the truth firsthand; you are not even an orphan, are you? We know what happened in Ironaok. Tell me _kwin_ , if Pike put a bullet through every villager how is it that you are standing before me? I have seen the damage Skai weapons cause, so do not lie to me!”

Instinctively, Anya’s hand finds her sword’s pommel swung around her hip. An action Anya immediately regrets as once welcoming blue eyes quickly steel over. The tent’s air thickens with tension as Klark rises from the leather sofa. Klark is not nearly as tall as Anya, but that doesn’t make her stance any less intimidating.

“I am Klark kom Azgeda, heir to the Ice Nation, and in command of the largest army the ground has ever seen. Our history is not warm, but I have ordered my people to show you nothing but respect. So you can imagine my disappointment learning such respect has not been reciprocated. Echo warned me about your clan’s nosiness, but I chose to ignorantly ignore it only to learn you and _your_ Commander have been spying on me. I am not sure what you were trying to achieve here this afternoon, but thankyou for opening my eyes.” Drawing out the dagger, Klark points the blade towards Anya as the pearls of her teeth glisten from behind the black and white war paint. “I think it would be best if you leave this tent General before we both do something we regret.”

From the way the words hiss past Klark’s bared teeth, Anya accepts this as the que to make her exit. Slowly Anya backs up but dares not to turn her back to the angered royal. Just before Anya backs out of the heir’s personal quarters, the dagger Klark once held embeds itself deep into the grass in-between Anya’s legs.

“And general? Please tell _your_ Commander that I will not be fooled twice. If she ever tries to exploit my emotions again in the hopes of learning my secrets, I promise I will not be as forgiving.”

* * *

**_KLARK_ **

The book that was placed on the leather sofa sails with great speed into the tent’s walls. How could she have been so stupid?! Klark has let all these strange feelings Lexa has stirred cloud her judgement. In a sense Klark doesn’t blame the Commander and the Trikru generals for being wary of her. If roles were reversed, Klark would probably feel the same about Nia and Nia’s successor. But one thing Klark would never do is play someone’s emotions only to then send someone else hunting for information.

The grooves of the dagger’s handle Klark threw at the General meets her fingers. Without hesitation Klark launches it deep into the wooden easel; causing the Commander’s painting to topple to the ground.

 _“But isn’t that exactly what you are doing?”_ a thought heavily laced with hypocrisy echoes off the walls of Klark’s mind. She isn’t so innocent either. It’s not like Klark has been exactly honest with the Commander; in fact, Anya’s suspicions weren’t exactly far off. There _is_ a larger scheme at play.

The nature of Nia’s task means Klark too needs to get close to the Commander and use the Commander’s own feelings against herself. But unfortunately for Azgeda’s prophecy, the warm touch of Lexa’s lips has begun to fracture the loyalty Klark once had for the secret task. Which is why the thought of Lexa playing Klark right back hurts so much.

Klark blinks back tears as two shaky hands readjust the toppled easel. With delicacy, Klark runs her fingers over the artist’s name scribed into the edge of the canvas:

LEXA

The smell of earth and musk pulls her into yesterday’s memory. Strong hands push Klark gently against the cool stone as tender kisses place themselves along the length of Klark’s exposed neck. Lexa must feel the same, how could she not? Or were the tears all just an act to win Klark’s trust to only send Anya prying for information?

As Klark mulls over her thoughts, she slips her armour over her sleeveless top. Normally when she spars with Echo, Klark likes to wear her full armour, but given this afternoon’s heat she decides to only wear a tan leathered breastplate. Leaving all her scars and tattoos exposed to the sun’s rays. The sound of a horn blaring in the distance snaps Klark’s thoughts from obsessing over the Commander’s motives.

“My _kwin_! Hurry!” Hondo’s anxious voice enters her tent. “My _kwin_ it is the scouting party. Something has happened!”

Immediately Klark feels her heart sink at the news. Her siblings are the people she treasures most and if something were to happen… Klark shakes her head to stop her mind from assuming the worst. Now is not the time to think such thoughts. Sheathing her swords Klark runs towards the sound of the horns.

* * *

“Quick! Get these three to Chancellor Abby’s medical tent. And take this one over to the hostage tent. Make sure he is heavily guarded. Heda will want to speak to him when she returns from her hunt!” Indra barks orders as the crowd begins to thicken around the commotion.

Klark pushes desperately through the crowd until she stands at the front of the surrounding bystanders. With anxious eyes, Klark scans the scene in front of her. Twenty-six scouts were sent out and after a quick count it looks like less than half have returned. From their sunken eyes and dark circles, all appear to be beyond exhausted. But what troubles Klark is she cannot see her brother’s painted face among the riders. In fact, none of the returned riders are her brother. Which means he must have been one of the injured ushered into the Skaikru’s medical tent.

Without further thought Klark sprints towards the red cross deep within the Skaikru camp. Her personal guards are quick to follow her steps and by the time they reach the medical tent all have the shimmer of sweat beading in their hairlines.

If Klark wasn’t so focused on locating her brother she would have noticed the rows of beds and strange steel equipment strategically setup in this medical bay. Or how her own Azgedian healers have made themselves right at home training alongside the Skaikru. But noticing such things will be another day’s task as her attention is solely on confirming his brother’s safety.

“Eric, grab IV’s for these two. They are severely dehydrated,” orders Chancellor Abby while slipping on gloves. “This one already has a nasty infection festering in his wounds. Show Nyko how to administer antibodies. If we hope to save him, we need to localize this infection.”

“Chancellor Abby, what about this one?” questions Eric.

“I am afraid he is no longer with us. What ever poison those arrows were laced with went straight to his heart. I suspect he died quickly.”

“And the other two?”

“Will have a fighting chance if we act quic –”

“Where is he?!” demands Klark, interrupting the two doctors. Her voice is much more anxious than she intended, startling even herself. But she doesn’t even attempt to collect herself, she needs to confirm Demetri’s safety first. Natasha, one of Azgeda’s apprenticing healers, is the first to rush to Klark’s side. 

“My _kwin_. I am sorry, but none of these three have their faces painted so no one can confirm if our Prince is one of these scouts. Come look for yourself.” Natasha grabs Klark’s wrist and ushers her quickly to the patients. Instantly Klark’s eyes fall to the third cot, where Demetri’s motionless body rests.

Without thinking Klark pushes past the group of healers. Taking hold of Demetri’s hand, she is met with an unnerving, cold sensation.

“Demetri?” Klark whispers softly, “Demetri, you need to wake up. I need you. Azgeda needs you. Please brother.” Klark can feel her knees begin to weaken as her quiet pleas remain unanswered. “Please wake up, I need you to wake up.”

Pressing her forehead onto his, Klark cannot keep the already slipping façade of Azgeda’s strong _kwin_ in place any longer. Tears that Klark has spent years concealing from her people splash freely down her brother’s lifeless face. Klark cannot accept this; Demetri is her everything, he is one of the only things Klark has left. Like her memories, she cannot lose him too.

“I need you to wake up!” Klark’s emotions begin to unravel as she firmly pounds a fist into his chest, “Wake up! You need to wake up!”

Her hysterical voice raises in volume, silencing the room of healers. With tears blinding her vision, Klark continues to slam her fists repeatedly into Demetri’s chest, ignoring the swelling pain emerging in her wrist.

“You cannot leave me here. We have so much to discover, so much to accomplish! I need you by myside when I become Queen!”

“Klark?” a voice from behind Klark whispers. It is soft at first as if hesitant to overstep boundaries, but continues after a few moments. “I am so sorry Klark for your loss. But I promise hitting his chest will not bring him back. Please Klark stop, you are only hurting your hands.”

Klark registers the familiar voice as the Chancellor’s soft tone but cannot – will not – accept the words, “He cannot be!” 

“Klark look how stiff his arms are,” Abby explains. “This is not a symptom of the living. I never new him, but I think he would not want you to hurt yourself.”

Abby’s presence comes into Klark’s proximity and secures two arms around Klark’s torso. Had it been any other situation Klark’s initial instinct would be to fight off the embrace, but the Chancellor’s hold oddly brings Klark a strange comfort to her. Turning around, Klark leans further into the first motherly like hug she can remember.

“His spirit can’t be really gone.” cries Klark, nestling into Abby’s embrace. “Please, help him with your Skaikru medicine!”

“I’m afraid it’s too late,” said Abby protectively holding Klark’s head as her fingers run soothing circles through Klark’s hair. “The pain of loss is nothing I would wish upon anyone. It is one I too am sadly familiar with. But you must find strength in the thought that his spirit will find you again in the next world. I am so sorry Klark.” 

The weight of Abby’s words settles in the corners of Klark’s mind as something inside Klark snaps. Before Klark can register the shift of emotions, she pushes out of the embrace and her feet begin moving faster than Klark can comprehend. 

“Klark wait?! Klark, where are you going?!”

Truthfully, Klark doesn’t even know, but all she cares about is escaping the proximity of Demetri’s lifeless body. A mix of sweat and tears sting her glossy eyes as the path in front of her begins to blur, but Klark doesn’t let that stop her sprint. Klark keeps running until her legs cannot hold her anymore and the buckling of her knees sends her crashing into the dirt.

“Klark?” questions a familiar voice. “Klark what are you doing. I know you are late for our spar, but do you really think this urgency is neces– wait, why are you crying? Klark what is wrong?” Echo’s voice increases with worry as Klark continues to sob, “Klark you are scaring me. I have never seen you like this, what is wrong?”

“He’s spirit is gone… he’s really gone….”

“Who’s gone?”

“ _He’s_ gone!” Without thinking Klark whips her dagger blindly across the ring. The sound of the blade cutting through the air catches the attention of other warriors practicing in the area.

 _“Thud!”_ The blade embeds itself deeply into the wood; almost too close for comfort for the few Trikru warriors practicing their sword work. 

“Hey?! What the hell is your problem!” a short Trikru warrior calls out as he steps closer to the two princesses. What he lacks in height, he appears to make up in brawn. As if reading the tenseness of the situation, Echo quickly steps in front of Klark’s distraught stance. Hearing the commotion around her, Klark knows she should do something to intercede but she can’t find the will to lift her face from the protection of her hands.

“It was only an accident. Please return to your training,” reassures Echo in an attempt to calm the hot-tempered man.

“She could have hit me!”

“But she did not, please you do not want to start something that isn’t necessary.”

The short warrior holds his spear in an almost a threatening way as he continues to stalk closer until he is face to face with Echo. Shifting her stance, Echo braces herself for an attack as the whites of her knuckles begin to pop around her spear’s handle.

“Long has the Ice Nation thought they can do whatever they want. Your army may be big, but I do not see them now.” The short man gestures in almost a mocking like fashion. “In fact, there are ten Trikru warriors here to two little Ice nation princesses. I think you would agree the odds are in our favour.”

“Please, we do not want trouble,” said Echo, “I promise our _kwin_ did not mean to throw her dagger at you. As you can see, she is quite upset. Let’s move past this and not start something we will all regret.”

“Regret? Shall I remind you who’s outnumbered princess?”

“Numbers mean nothing to us Trikru. Step down before you embarrass yourself.” Echo’s lips curl back in almost a snarl as Klark can tell her sister’s patience with the short man is dwindling. 

“As you wish princess,” replies the short warrior as he bows in a sarcastic motion. A8nd just as Echo requested, he takes a few steps back from the confrontation.

“Come on Klark get up.”

At Echo’s words Klark wipes the tears from her eyes smudging the white paint into black. Klark can only imagine how horrible she looks, but cannot bring herself to care as the Heir’s strong façade is long gone.

“Here, take my hand Klark.” Echo reaches down, pulling Klark to her wobbly feet. “There you go. Now, please tell me what on earth is going on with you?”

“ _Whack!”_ The sound of wood meeting skull snaps Klark back into reality. Caught of guard, Klark attempts to catch Echo but her efforts are useless as Echo’s unconscious body slips though Klark’s fingers slamming hard into the dirt.

“Echo?” Klark nudges at Echo’s shoulder but there is no response. She clenches her jaw; this is too similar to the excruciating moment Klark just experienced with Demetri. Looking up to the short warrior’s smug face Klark cannot control the immediate pit of rage that ignites deep down within her chest. She has lost one sibling today and there is no way this ignorant Trikru man will take another away from her.

Without further thought, Klark quickly draws her dual swords and rushes the short warrior. The look on his face is one of instant regret as he braces himself for the attack. He is way outranked, and he knows it. Quickly he looks back to the other Trikru warriors, but their faces of bewilderment confirm he is alone against the heir.

“ _Crack_!” Her blades collide into the spear’s shaft echoing across the ring. The sparring spear’s wood is soft and is of no match for swings with such intensity. “ _Crack_!” Another notch is ripped out from the spear which throws the Trikru warrior off balance. As he falls a cloud of dust swirls into the air. Crashing hard, he falls into the red dirt.

Scrambling he retrieves his spear laying out in front of him and quickly bounces back to the balls of his feet. Had this been a normal spar, Klark would have extended him slight mercy before the next blow, but after his actions there will be no such pleasantries.

In an attempt to strike Klark, he jabs the spear towards her torso; a critical mistake made by the short warrior. Not only was his attack easily outmaneuvered by Klark, but it has left his one side completely defenseless.

Two swords cut through the air at great speed. The short warrior has no time to react as the blades effortlessly slice through the exposed flesh below his elbow. As a stream of red sprays into the air both the spear and the detached appendage topple into the dirt below. 

“My arm!” The short warrior falls to his knees grabbing at his severed limb. Desperately he tries to make any attempt to stop the blood from pouring out of the wound.

“Has been taking from you,” said Klark spitting out the stray blood that has landed in her mouth from the dismemberment. “If I recall, my sister warned you to not start anything you would regret and yet here we are.”

Klark’s mind goes to the wellbeing of Echo’s motionless body laying in the dirt. Every fibre in Klark worries for Echo and Klark wants nothing more than to rush to Echo’s side. But that will have to wait, seeing as Klark is now surrounded by the other nine Trikru warriors.

Klark readies herself in a defensive position as the first of the warriors takes a swing. Easily she blocks the attack while simultaneously attacking another with her other blade. The worry for Echo morphs into a rush of adrenaline. It has been a while since Klark has had a real battle. The endorphins flowing through her veins fuel her in such a way she has become an even more dangerous opponent for the lesser skilled warriors.

“Stop!” A familiar voice booms over the clash of metal, but Klark finds herself unable to stop. The _Wintam_ _Pakstoka_ Nia has spent five years grooming into perfection is fully engaged; to attack one _Bloka_ is to attack them all and _jus drein jus daun._

“I said stop!”

 _“Clash!”_ Blades meet in the air as Klark comes face to face with General Anya. The look in Anya’s eyes is pleading at first, but then as Anya assesses the intensity of Klark stare, Klark notices how brown eyes fill with challenge.

The other warriors immediately backdown as they do not dare get in between a battle of such ranks. It isn’t rare to see two warriors of such status spar, but it is rare to witness a battle with such passion. Which is why this less than friendly looking spar has started to garnish quite the onlookers all hoping to catch a glimpse of the spar. 

_“Clash!”_ Anya blocks the well-placed attack as she steps into position to prepare for Klark’s second sword. _“Clash!”_

Usually Klark’s preference is to take a more defensive approach, patiently waiting for the opponent to tire, but this is not the case against the general. The need to protect her siblings has overturned Klark’s usually calm demeanour into one that is being driven out of control by heightened emotions. Every attack Klark makes is guided by a lust for revenge and from the slight worry in Anya’s eyes, she too knows just how dangerous Klark is in this moment – one wrong move and Anya will suffer the same fate as the short Trikru warrior.

“Swish!”

Anya leaps out of the way of the Illok blade but has little time to recover as she must quickly position her sword to block another attack. From the sweat pooling in the Anya’s hairline, Klark can tell that Anya is growing tired from Klark’s well-placed attacks, and truthfully, Klark is too. It has been a long time since the intensity of a fight has been one of this caliber. The general is a formidable warrior that appears to be matching Klark’s attacks with more a traditional, yet extremely effective style and Klark is tiring.

The pair move to other side of the sparing ring as they continue slashing and blocking each other’s movements. For a moment, Klark’s eyes catch Echo’s unconscious body being tenderly looked after by an Azgeda healer. The seconds of lost concentration is the exact moment Anya needs.

Using the loss of focus, Anya plants her fist square into Klark’s jaw throwing Klark off balance. The impact is stunning as a familiar metallic taste pools in Klark's mouth. Before Klark can regather her stance, a kick into her chest sends the air rushing out of Klark’s lungs. Stumbling she tumbles hard into the ground. 

Anya points her sword at Klark waiting for Klark to yield, but in an almost innate like instinct Klark swings out a leg. She has not been trained to yield. With a swift motion Klark takes the legs right out from underneath Anya sending both Anya and Anya’s sword plummeting into the ground next to Klark.

Quickly, Klark jumps up and takes a towering position over a defenseless Anya. All eyes widen as the scales of battle tilt into Klark’s favour. Murmurs turn to an almost roar like noise as discussions begin to spread through the crowd like wildfire as many begin to anticipate the heir’s next movements. 

Klark knows she should stop; this spar has gotten out of control and she knows her next actions could be detrimental for the Coalition. Recalling her teachings Klark knows she needs to centre herself and find her ground again. But as Klark closes her eyes all she can see is Demetri’s pale face laying lifelessly on a Skaikru cot. The noise from the roaring crowd turns to nothing but silence as Klark becomes lost in her own thoughts. Demetri is gone and now Echo could be too.

“Ahhh!” A haunting scream rushes out from Klark’s lips as she lifts her swords overtop her head. Klark’s vision immediately obscures as large tears begin to flow freely down her face. Looking to the ground all that can be seen is a blur. Had Klark not lost her focus she would see Anya’s eyes filling with fear as they desperately plead for mercy or how the roar from the surrounding crowd has become so silent the only noise that can be heard are the oblivious chirps from birds rustling in the trees.

Gasps fill the air as another painfilled scream escapes Klark’s lungs. Two swords swing down towards Anya’s outstretched hands, uselessly shielding herself from the fate to come. 

_“Clank!”_ The sound of metal colliding ricochets into the air. The noise pulls Klark’s focus back into place as exasperated breaths draw repeatedly into her lungs. Looking down below Klark sees Anya bracing for an impact that never came. Which is when Klark registers the third sword protectively positioned between hers and the unarmed general. 

_“oh fuck.”_ Klark takes in the look behind in the Commander’s eyes. From the way they have changed Klark knows she is in for it. The softness that had once held her by the creek is long replaced with the image Nia painted of the Commander years ago: ferocious, lethal, and incredibly dangerous. Klark gulps, there is no time to justify what has just happened. Preparing herself she waits as the Commander makes a lethal lunge.

 _“Clank!”_ Braced for impact, Klark blocks the highspeed attack. _“Clash!”_

Klark quickly reacts as she defends herself from another heavy blow. One after another the Commander’s sword meets Klark’s dual blades and the opponents make their way around the ring. Anya may have been a formidable rival, but Klark finds herself in awe at the fluidness of the Commander. Where Klark had taken the offensive against the general, she is now entirely on the defensive against the Commander’s rage.

Spinning on her toes, Klark reaches to block another impressive attack from the Commander. But the Commander isn’t the only one living up to a reputation, Klark too is showcasing all her rumoured abilities. In this situation many others would simply crumble from the pressure of being paired against the Commander, but not Klark. Even in her fatigue Klark is thriving, pushing back and testing Heda’s limits.

Neither Klark nor the Commander is outshining the other as the Commander pushes the battle to a new corner. When the intensity of the display furthers, the crowd’s roar crescendos; cheering on the ground’s most powerful warriors dangerously dance in a continuing struggle of dominance. To say this sight is rare would be an understatement and by the excitement radiating from the crowd proves they all know it too.

_“Clash!”_

_“Swish!”_

_“Clank!”_

Klark is not sure how long they have been battling, but from the sweat pooling on Heda’s forehead and the burning in her own lungs, she can only imagine it has been long enough. Fatigue begins to overtake her as the burning in Klark’s lungs intensifies. Klark can feel her movements become slightly sloppy as the battle turns back into Heda’s court and that’s when Klark realizes she has made a calculating mistake.

Reading Heda’s body Klark thought the attack would come from the left, but when Klark spins to defend her flank Heda turns at the last minute. Striking from the right. Klark quickly corrects her positioning to deflect the attack, but from the awkwardness of the angle Klark is not able to fully stop the blow.

A sharp pain digs into the flesh of Klark’s bicep as oozing liquid slides down the length of her arm. The blood makes the sword’s grip difficult and the next blow from Heda sends Klark’s sword slipping out from her hand. The Commander retaliates further. Planting her leather boot firmly onto Klark’s chest, she kicks Klark to the ground. Once again, their eyes meet. But instead of ferociousness, Klark is surprised to find sadness. 

A cool sensation meets Klark’s throat as the Commander’s blade presses itself into Klark’s skin. It is a clear sign of defeat and from the cheers erupting the crowd knows it too. Without further hesitation, Klark loosens the grip on her second sword. With a soft thud, the exquisite blade finds its place in the dirt. 

“Return to your positions! There is nothing more to see here!” said the Commander to the gathered crowd. “Should I come across another spar getting out of hand, I personally will see to the punishment. Save your energy for the war that is to come, now move!”

Quickly the group dissipates back to their respective duties, but not without murmurs. The scene that has unfolded her today will for sure be the talk of the camp over the next few days. And only when the crowd thins does the Commander remove the blade from Klark’s throat.

“Indra! Summon Nyko. Have him assess Echo kom Azgeda. Nia has lost one son today. I cannot imagine she would be too pleased if she losses another child.”

“And Thomman?” questions Indra

“Should consider himself lucky if he survives the night. In Azgeda, the punishment of striking a monarch is to be flayed alive. Losing his hand is miniscule in comparison. And you...” the Commander turns towards an exhausted Klark, “are to come with me.”


	33. An Old Weakness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday. I hope everyone had a great week! Throwing out lots of content this weekend because I can't wait to get to my favourite chapters. And does someone finally piece Klark's story together? Perhaps, but I don't want to give anything away ;) Thanks for reading - LMS 
> 
> ***TRIGGER WARNING*** Slight small reference to suicidal thoughts. If this is a sensitive topic for you please see note below for which paragraph to skip.
> 
> Stop reading - "One night, I think..."  
> Start reading - "wait, you ran,"

**_Klark_ **

The walk to the Commander’s tent feels like an eternity. Between Klark’s tired legs and the stale air shared between them, Klark is not sure how much longer she can walk in such silence. And worst yet, Klark has no idea what is going on in the mind of Lexa who swiftly walks next to her.

Klark does not know Lexa well, but from the rigid posture and stoic expression, Klark can tell she is all parts Commander and no parts the Lexa who passionately kissed her. Which is rational seeing as Klark’s emotional outburst almost decapitated someone extremely close to the leader. It would have been an unforgivable action. One where the consequences would never avenge Demetri’s death but only tear down the respect Klark has just started to gain for Azgeda.

Something Demetri would never have wanted or be proud of Klark for. At that thought, a wave of embarrassment washes over her. She lost control of her emotions and almost put her clan at risk because of it. Such actions deserve heavy consequences and Klark will willingly accept any sentence the Commander sees fit. If Klark can survive Nia’s torture she will have no problem with the Commander’s chosen punishment.

As they near, warriors posted outside the commander’s tent straighten their stance. Grunting and waiving her hands, Lexa silently dismisses the guards as they all quickly disburse somewhere into the Trikru camp.

“Niylah?!” Lexa’s voice is ridged, as if laced with annoyance.

“ _Sha_ Heda?”

A tall girl with striking features emerges from Heda’s personal quarters. Klark takes note of the basket of laundry she is holding and concludes that this is Heda’s personal handmaiden. Even with her doubts of Lexa’s actual intentions with their relationship, Klark still finds a strange sense of jealousy stirring up. The thought that such a beautiful woman working in such a proximity to Lexa makes Klark envious. Klark begins to wonder if Lexa would be tempted by the long legs and warm hazel eyes, but quickly shuts down that thought. She doesn’t have that type of claim on Lexa.

“Please find Nyko’s _seken_ and bring me back some supplies. You will find them in the healing tent with Echo kom Azgeda.”

“Will he know what you need?” questions Niylah.

“Yes. Indra will be there too and she will be able to assist. Quickly please.”

“Of course,” The tall handmaiden dips her head quickly, but before Niylah leaves her gaze latches onto a still jealous Klark. A warm smile finds Niylah’s lips and Klark cannot help but feel guilty for the string of death threats she has just mentally uttered towards the handmaiden.

Klark shouldn’t be jealous; she and Lexa are, well actually Klark has no idea what they are. One minute they are kissing passionately – which thanks to General Anya’s visit Klark still doesn’t know if it was all just a ruse – and then they are sparring with such an intensity many will assume them to be enemies. But now here they are alone and Klark has no idea what any of this means. 

Once in the Commander’s personal quarters they are met with a soft light. Illuminated from the many candles placed across the various furniture pieces. Without a further word Lexa slumps herself onto the sofa and buries her face into the palms of dirt stained hands.

Klark waits. But there is nothing but silence. As the minutes pass by and Lexa remains in this position Klark takes the time to finally realize just how tired she is. Drawing in a breath, her lungs still burn with exhaustion and when she moves her arms, she notices how heavy they feel. Looking around the room Klark sees the only other chair is the sofa’s slightly tattered ottoman directly positioned in front of Lexa.

The ottoman creaks slightly under Klark’s weight as she focuses her attention onto the dejected looking Commander. Observant eyes trace the network of braids intricately woven into the dark brown strands. Until now, Klark had not realized how long the Commander’s hair is. Much like Klark’s own locks, she anticipates the brown hair would cascade down the length of the Commander’s back had the braids been absent.

The swift movement of Niylah’s return draws Klark’s attention away from Lexa’s braids and onto the small basket of supplies Niylah places next to the sofa. Curiously Klark strains her neck to see the contents inside.

Looking in, Klark can see a small bowl of water, a few white cloths, a bottle whose green glass masks the contents inside, and lastly an object Klark finds herself slightly perplexed by. It is very strange looking and reminds her of the many tools the Skaikru’s medical tent possesses.

“I’m sorry Klark,” said Lexa as soon as Niylah leaves them alone once again.

Klark creases her eyebrows in confusion. The words are shocking. Klark had expected a punishment of at least fifty lashes, but instead is ironically receiving an apology? Looking over to Lexa, Klark notices how her once stern face has fallen into one of sorrow.

“I am sorry Lexa, but it was I who lost control and almost sliced your General in two. I believe it is me who should be apologizing.”

“Yet, it was I who harmed you. Just look at your arm.”

Trailing Lexa’s gaze Klark reinspects her bicep. Sliced right through her tattoo, a large gash slowly oozes. From the cut’s smooth lines, it is evident Lexa’s blade is impeccably sharp. Luckily, the wound isn’t deep enough to hinder Klark’s future abilities, but it is just the right depth to warrant a potential infection.

Apparently, the adrenaline of the spar heightened her senses in such a way Klark did not even notice the cut. But now that she lays eyes on the wound a stinging sensation begins to burn around its edges.

“This? Well this is only a flesh wound. I have had much worse. Like this one over here.” Klark lifts the bottom of her shirt exposing an old scar on her lower abdomen. From Klark’s memory a growl snarls in the shadows as the scars’ raised stripes serves as a reminder of just how dangerous winter _paunas_ can be.

“I could have hurt you worse. If the blade had been positioned slightly different, it would have been a much different story.”

“Well thanks to the spirits that is not the case. Besides, it is equally my fault. I lost control, I became fatigued, and worst yet I let my tiredness hinder my technique,” said Klark poking at the tender edges of her wound. “I promise this cut is nothing, one trip to my healer and I will be ready for the upcoming battle.”

“That will not be necessary.”

“To fight in battle?”

“No, a trip to the healer. Niylah has brought everything we need.”

Klark scrunches her brows again in confusion as Lexa begins neatly laying out the basket’s contents. Organizing them in such a way it is as if each item plays a specific purpose. Never did Klark imagine Lexa to be a knowledgeable healer, but before Klark has a chance to ask a warm cloth brings an unwelcomed sensation shooting up her arm. She hisses through clenched teeth as Lexa softly brushes away the dirt surrounding the cut. After a few excruciating minutes, Lexa gently lifts Klark’s arm to inspect her work. Once satisfied that the wound is clean, Lexa reaches for the green bottle.

 _“Tapujoram bluma,”_ said Lexa as the contents of the bottle are poured into the cloth’s fibers. The liquid elicits a strong odour one that Klark has smelt before. It is fresh, almost like an open field. Quite like some of the meadows her army had to rest in on the way down to the Glowing forest.

 _“Tapujoram bluma?_ It’s made from a flower? _”_

“Yes. Or that’s what Nyko calls it anyways. It is a rare herb like plant found tucked away behind rocks and low bushes in open fields. I have been told that at a certain stage it must be plucked from the earth in order to have the healing properties. The life cycle of the herb is abnormally short, so it is extremely rare to find it at the ideal stage. What is in this bottle is all that could be found this year.”

“And you’re wasting it on a flesh wound! Are you sure Nyko would approve?”

“It is from my personal cabinetry; I can do as I please with it.”

Klark feels herself blushing at Lexa’s act of kindness as the cool paste meets her skin. Unlike before, this sensation is welcomed and the tingling it brings already provides a cooling relief. Lexa then reaches out for the steel objects Klark could not recognize. Curiously, Klark watches as Lexa’s two hands steadily thread a string into a curved piece of steel. Once Lexa is happy with the length of the string, she reaches for the two other metal like objects.

“These will help me with your sutures,” Lexa speaks out loud as if reading the concerned look on Klark’s face. “A few years ago, I requested Chancellor Abby to teach me the basics of wound care. I have found mixing our Trikru healing methods with the Skaikru’s achieves optimal results.”

A small prick tugs Klark’s arm as the curved needle begins to make its work. It is fascinating to Klark as she has never seen such a technique. Usually in Azgeda they only bandage wounds, letting nature take its own course. Deep cuts, however, are sometimes seared closed by a heated blade. It makes Klark thankful that she has arranged for her own healers to receive additional training from the Skaikru. Methods like this will be useful to bring back to Azgeda.

“Such a good skill to have. Demetri…” The sound of his name provokes a sharp pain in Klark’s chest as the not so distant memory of his lifeless body haunts her mind. The back of her throat tightens and as she closes her eyes. Creating a sensation of freshly pooling tears. “Demetri and I had always thought it would be beneficial to learn such skills, but our mother would never allow it. Our focus has been on fighting and fighting alone.”

The stitching stops momentarily before a familiar prick resumes into the flesh of Klark’s arm.

“I lost someone special to me too…”

Klark’s eyes snap open and look onto Lexa’s concentrated face. Even though Lexa is focused on the wound care, her eyes have change in a way Klark has never seen before. Sure, Klark has seen Lexa’s eyes soften from their usual hardness, but this time the lack of luster makes them almost unrecognizable. Klark finds herself recalling all her teachings about the Commander. What could possibly cause so much pain behind those eyes? Then it hits her.

“Mother’s war. Peace only came when a head was traded for a head.” Klark watches as Lexa does not lose concentration from her stitching but presses her lips together as a response to the painful memories.

“What Costia and I shared was incredibly special. She was my first love, my first kiss, my first everything. It had destroyed me when your mother took her from me; however, my duty to the Coalition did not suffer. To the people I was stronger than ever.” Adjusting her position, Lexa rolls her shoulders before returning her attention to the stitches. “I stopped a war, singed a peace treaty, and started much needed trade negotiations but on the inside? I was dying.

I thought the only way I could survive the pain was to remind myself daily about what love had done to me. It was a slow process, but eventually I became numb to any feelings of human connection all because I recognized love for what is was: a weakness.”

Klark lets herself ponder the words spoken but finds herself perplexed about one thing.

“Lexa?”

“mhmmm?

“So it was Costia’s loss that made you believe love was weakness?”

“Yes.”

“I am sorry, but I think I am getting confused. The afternoon we spent painting together I am sure you told me it was loss that made you stop believing love was weakness?”

“You are not confused.”

“I’m not?” Klark’s eyebrows squint together again with confusion as she waits for the next piece of the puzzle.

“When I was at my darkest point a star fell to me from the sky. The first time I laid eyes on her I knew she was special. She was an extraordinary leader that fused together an unthinkable alliance when the ground needed it most.” 

_“…but there was one who orchestrated everything, she was the mastermind… a very gifted leader…our whole existence today is owed to her…”_ Klark’s nods to herself as a past conversation with Octavia kom Trikru runs through her mind. Bit by bit Klark’s thoughts piece together the other side of the story her mother never included in her lessons.

_“Without her I am sure the Commander would have slaughtered us all…. Do you remember the story of Wanheda…Wanheda’s soul was released to another… but what does Wanheda have to with…”_

“Clarke…” Klark’s voice is a mere whisper, but it is loud enough to makes Lexa’s hands freeze in place. “The skai girl who harnessed the power of Wanheda. She what the one?”

“Yes.”

“Clarke must have been very special if she impacted you in similar ways that Costia had.”

A slight pull on Klark’s skin signals that the stiches are complete as Lexa ties off the thread. With lips still pressed together Lexa silently inspects the now sealed wound. Again she appears to be pleased with her work. Taking out a small bandage, she gently wraps it around Klark’s muscled arm.

“Yes. I treasure the laughs I had once shared with Costia, but as I said it was a young love. With Clarke it was different. It was more intense and she bettered me in every way. All those years I had spent building up walls could not stop Clarke from reaching in and taking hold of my heart. When I first laid eyes on her I knew I never wanted to live another day without her and when I finally took her as my bonded my heart was so full.”

Lexa clears her throat redirecting her attention to the top corner of the tent as if to stop unwanted tears. It’s a sight that makes Klark’s heart break. This is the first time Klark has seen Lexa express pain so openly and it is also the first time she has heard that Lexa had been bonded. Immediately a slight stir of insecurity begins to shift in Klark’s stomach, but she quickly shoves those thoughts away when Klark looks again at Lexa’s pained appearance.

Without even thinking Klark moves onto the sofa interlocks Lexa's slender fingers with her own. Klark is not sure she is overstepping or if this is exactly what Lexa needs, but listening to her instincts she continues to engage.

“Her death must have been so hard. How did you survive?”

“I barely did.”

Watching a tear slip down Lexa’s face, Klark is not sure she should continue dragging up the past, “Is this something you talk about often Lexa?”

“No. Not even after all these years Anya and I have yet to talk about this.”

“You do not have to continue. We can just sit here if you would like instead.”

“No, I think it is time. I was told once that talking about things can help wounds heal and I think I finally found something to live for again.” Lexa lightly squeezes Klark’s hand and once again Klark is thankful her paint disguises her blush.

“When your mother had left Polis she gifted us a few bottles of your Nation’s finest Vodka. I am not usually one to drink, but I remember the night after Clarke’s funeral was the night I lost myself. I do not remember much, but I remember how angry I was at the spirits for letting Clarke be taken away from me so prematurely. In my drunken rage I destroyed a place where my memories of her were the strongest and that’s where Anya had found me.” Lost in nostalgia Lexa’s eyes fixate themselves onto the majestic painting positioned in the corner of the tent. “I blacked out soon after that, but I am certain Anya spent the night cradling me as I drifted in and out of consciousness. The look on Anya’s face still haunts me today. She was, well still is worried for me and if I were her, I would have been too.

Anyways after that night I spiraled further into darkness and all I wanted was to die. For weeks I refused to leave my room, denying myself all necessities. Day in and day out Talia pleaded with me. Begged me to eat, to even wash myself but I refused. The only thing I wanted was the burn of Vodka sliding down my throat.

One night, I think it had been about my third week of isolation, I found myself drunk on my balcony. Staring up into the night’s clouded sky I remember feeling the sudden urge to jump. But just as I was stepping over the balcony’s edge, there was a loud thunder crack and rain began falling onto Polis. It was so sudden it had stopped me from tilting forward and as I backed up slightly, I focused onto the city below. Splashing in the rain I saw children, _my_ children full of such joy. It was right then I realized that in my despair, I had forgotten my duty to my people. I felt so ashamed. Clarke would never of wanted that path for me, so I ran.”

“Wait, you ran,” interrupts Klark, “like away?”

“Yes. Enough was enough. I threw a half drunken bottle of vodka against the wall, grabbed my cloak, my sword, and threw a few pieces of Talia’s bread into a tote. I remember riding so fast the rain hit my face like rocks, but I kept pushing my stallion faster. It was dangerous and incredibly reckless to leave without informing Anya or Indra. But I figured they had already taken care of the Coalition this long a little more time without a Commander wouldn’t damage things too much.

I eventually found a place to rest near Mount Weather. It had been the first time I saw the mountain since I had turned my back on Clarke and the rest of the Skaikru. I am not sure why I thought such a painful place would help me find solace, but there I was only a few hundred meters away from the spot I betrayed my soulmate. I think I thought if I could visit a place where I was strong enough to lead with my head, I could find that same strength once again for my people.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Eventually. The first few nights I remember how thunder rolled throughout the mountain’s valleys. I initially worried that my position was too close in proximity to the Skaikru and someone would find me. But with the heavy rains and the intensity of the storms I knew I would be safe. I remember spending the nights screaming my pain into the rain. I genuinely held nothing back.” A small chuckle springs from Lexa’s chest, “I am certain if anyone saw me, they would have thought I had lost my mind and truthfully I know I did.

The aftermath of four nights screaming into the abyss had left my throat raw and incredible pained, but on the fifth night I was still prepared to continue my ritual. I had been so engrossed in my thoughts I did not notice that the sound of the rain had stopped. So when I crawled out of my cave, I was very surprised to see the stars illuminating the night.

The sky was spectacular that night. It was nothing like I had ever seen before. It was majestic, almost an exact replication of the canvas my Clarke painted for me. I remember being so awestruck by the view I began to star gaze just like Clarke had taught me to. Going from star to star I attempted to name every constellation I remembered. It was strange, but I found that with every constellation I named I started to feel closer to Clarke. Eventually I found my last one, Orin the Hunter. I had been saving him for last because it was…” Lexa pauses running a hand over her heart. After a few moments of clenching at her shirt she continues, “It was the most special to me. When I found him something inside me shifted. It was like Clarke was right there with me, telling me everything would be alright.

It was as if I heard her voice reminding me of her promise that her soul would always find its way back to me. I won’t lie, I still could not stop the tears from escaping, but instead of tears of anger they were different. It was then I knew I would survive the loss of Clarke because I had found a way to stay connected to her. I knew things would still be incredibly hard, but I decided the sky would be the way I would find my healing. In fact, it is a little-known detail about me, but I still spend most clear nights staring up into the stars.”

Klark’s mind flashes to the gift her mother had given her to present to the Commander. Something Klark had not thought much about until now.

“The book! The gift from my mother, it wasn’t much of a gift at all was it?”

“No, it was not.”

“A threat then?”

“I would assume that was the intent.”

Klark finds herself feeling a slight ping of guilt as she recalls the task her mother gave her. Of course, the book was meant to be a threat. It is such her mother’s style to play such games. But what perplexes Klark the most is why would her mother care so much about Lexa’s past relationship with Clarke? Sure, it was her doing that tore Costia away from Lexa, but why taunt her about Clarke? What purpose would that serve?

 _“Unless…”_ Klark bites her tongue quickly to suppress a gasp. The only reason Nia would taunt Lexa is if Nia had something to do with Clarke’s death. Klark finds her face flush once again, but instead of from bashfulness, it is of rage. How could her mother be so cruel? Like a cat toying with its prey before the kill. It is unnecessary and as complicated as Klark’s own situation is with Lexa, Klark finds herself wanting to do everything in her power to protect the hand wrapped so tightly into hers. To distract Klark from her disturbing realization, she prompts Lexa with another question.

“So, what happened next?”

“After my time spent at mount weather?”

“Yes.”

“Well I will admit, when I say all of this out loud it sounds much easier than it really was. I will assure you, Clarke’s hold on my heart was so strong when she left this world, my heart went with her. But when I returned to Polis, I threw myself back into my duties as a necessary distraction. To the Coalition it was as if I had never changed, but those closest to me were not fooled – especially Anya. To Anya I was colder, harder, and evidence of sleepless nights sat heavily around my eyes. But I vowed not to make the same mistake twice about love and it was all thanks to the night’s sky.

The night I had spent under the stars changed me. It made me realize that the way I coped with Costia’s death was destructive and reaffirmed exactly what Clarke was trying telling me all along. Love was not weakness; how could it be? It was Clarke who was my greatest strength. In the areas I was deficient, she made me whole. Like I said, she challenged my thinking and most importantly she made me realize there was more to life than just surviving.”

“I am sorry you have had to endure so much loss Lexa. I am not sure I can bear the loss of my brother. So the thought that you have endured something so excruciating not once, but twice? Pains me. I wish there is something I can do to take some of the pain you are feeling...” Klark hesitates. She doesn’t really know how to phrase her next words without coming across the wrong way. “I mean I know I can never replace Costia or your Clarke, but I just… well I want you to know that even though our political status complicates things I will always be here if you need.”

A small smile curls on the Lexa’s lips as she squeezes Klark’s hand in reassurance.

“It is ironic, I had always thought betraying Clarke at the mountain would be my biggest regret, but I was wrong. My regret is that I held back my love for her because of my duty. You see I wanted to protect Clarke. To keep our relationship hidden from the other clans before we made it common knowledge. But before I could publicly declare her as my wife, Clarke was taken from me. My biggest regret is not loving her as much as she deserved.” Lexa shifts almost nervously in the sofa as she adjusts her position closer to Klark. “So I promised myself that if I ever found a love as strong as I once shared with Clarke I would never hold back. I know we have just met Klark, but I am serious when I say your presence has an affect on me. I am not sure what the spirits are trying to tell me but there is something about you that is very special too.”

Klark finds her head spinning as Lexa leans in and rests her forehead onto hers. Once again, the smell of earth and musk intoxicates Klark sending butterflies fluttering wildly against the walls of her stomach. Before Lexa opened up, Klark had wanted to confront her about General Anya and whatever games Klark suspected. But seeing how exposed Lexa is being Klark’s suspicions have evaporated away. As Klark cannot believe Lexa would dare show this much vulnerability to another leader without being serious of her intent. Gently Klark brushes her hand alongside the smooth skin of Lexa’s sharp jawline.

“The others are not going to like this.” Klark’s voice cracks slightly under its quiet tone.

“No, I think not.”

The warmth of Lexa’s soft whisper tickles alongside the base of Klark’s ear as Klark tilts her head back to provide Lexa more access.

“My mother is not going to like this.” A slight whimper escapes Klark as gentle kisses begin to softly cascade down the length of her painted neck and onto her collarbone.

“No, I think not.”

Firmly Klark bites her tongue to suppress another whimper from escaping when Lexa’s hand finds her chest, “hmmm…should we stop?”

The kisses cease momentarily, “If that is what you would like Klark.”

“No, I do not want to stop. Not now, not ever. But I cannot help but feel distracted from the events of today. You are special Lexa and I do not want such a moment between us to be tainted in the shadow of my brother’s death. When I give you my all I want to mean it.”

The soft lips meeting hers is all the confirmation Klark needs.


	34. Seeing Ghosts

**_ANYA_ **

_“Klark! You need to centre yourself…stop this nonsense…your emotions are taking control… Klark ground yourself warrior! Klark, please stop!”_

The memory of the heir’s blades catching the sunlight burns deep into Anya’s mind as she replays the moment calling out to Klark over and over. Reaching over to the pitcher, lukewarm water pours quickly into the ivory basin. Scooping up the liquid Anya watches as it slowly slips back into the basin from the cracks between her two hands. Her spirit almost found its rest today, but oddly this is not what troubles her the most.

The heir’s movements were exceptionally fluid, quick, and precise. Even when Klark had tired, the unique style of the strikes and blocks were well executed. Had Anya not been fighting for her life, she would have no doubt admired the beauty of the dancelike footwork that had pushed Anya’s limits. Of course, there was evidence of traditional Azgedian techniques, but underlining each movement Anya could tell Klark possessed something very different. Movements eerily similar to her last _seken’s._

Slowly questions begin swirling their way into Anya’s mind. How did Azgeda gain knowledge of a sacred Skaikru tradition? Abby and Kane would never volunteer such secrets. Willingly at least. Especially since only a select few had ever been trained in such techniques. And from what Kane has told Anya, many who once knew the practice have either died or have forgotten it altogether. Making it unlikely that Azgeda would ever become familiar with it.

Water pools into Anya’s hands for a second time. Instead of watching it seep between her hands, she splashes it generously onto her dirty face. Its lukewarm temperature is welcomed as it begins to wash away the caked dust covering her skin. With each rinse the water loses clarity as sediment finds itself into the bottom of the bowl. Anya should be more focused on cleaning her face rather than this mindless splashing, but she cannot help it. She is distracted by the scattered thoughts racing around her mind. Splashing herself again, Anya recalls past conversations she has had over the past few days. 

_“The strange familiarity found in the cerulean blue…not a single survivor… as if she appeared from thin air… not much is known… a mysterious girl with a painted face… she would have never survived Pike’s raid… movements so similar… sheltered from an entire coalition… memory loss… a falsified story…_

_But it is like my soul is being pulled…I do not understand… keryon soujon is only supposed to happen once… why her, why now…Is it possible to have more than one…Possible, but unlikely…No other_ _oudas newanas have witnessed such an occurrence…_ _general, sometimes the answer we seek is right in front of us, hiding behind a mask of the shadows”_

The pitcher releases itself from Anya’s now limped hands. Crashing into the basin below, the impact creates a large splinter down the middle of the porcelain. Without restraints, water rushes out from the broken pitcher soaking Anya’s frontside. But Anya doesn’t jump back, in fact she remains completely paralyzed.

“I have been looking for you.”

Not even the familiar bark of Indra’s voice causes a reaction in Anya. She remains nothing but a statue.

“Anya, we need to talk. The hostage has been isolated in the prisoner’s tent and even among today’s events I am sure the Commander will want to question him as soon as possible. I do fear that there is tense air in the Azgeda camp. I do not think Demetri’s death is causing the hostility, as a scout it is an honour to die during such duties; however, I am afraid his passing has amplified the reaction of that _branwada_ clubbing Echo. But most importantly, I feel like we must discuss Kla-,” Indra halts herself mid speech, “Anya?”

Anya tries to muster up a reaction, but all attempts are feeble as she remains completely paralyzed.

“I-I…klark…is…” Anya stammers as Indra twists her mouth with slight concern at Anya’s inability to communicate.

“Yes, that is why I am here. Witnessing the true extent of Klark’s skill has evoked great concern. I fear that if she lets her emotions spiral out of control again, we could have problems. We have talked about the rumours of the heir’s talents, but this surpassed every expectation I had. Not only did she disarm you, did you see how Klark fought Lexa? Tired from two other opponents no less?! To be such a challenging opponent at that level of fatigue is dangerous. I always had suspicions, but now it has been confirmed. Nia is making a move for power and she is going to use her wolf to achieve it!” Indra thrusts the end of her spear into the ground below. Just as she is about to make another speech, her dark eyes fall upon Anya’s swaying form. “Sit down child! Your skin is whiter than paper!”

A tingling sensation crawls from the tips of Anya’s toes and up to her knees. Slowly Anya’s sense of reality twists as the inside of her tent begins to blur. Before Indra can realize what is happening Anya’s knees buckle from under her and the world fades to black.

* * *

Murmured voices quietly muffle in the background as Anya slowly begins to come coherent to her surroundings. A cool rag meets her forehead causing her weary eyes to flutter open. Once focused, Anya meets the concerned gazes of both Indra and Nyko.

“Welcome back general,” Nyko’s deep voice gently sooths her awake as Anya takes in his large frame. Once Nyko confirms Anya is responsive his demeaner changes. His bedside manner becomes more professional and he begins to inspect her for further injury. Once satisfied Anya will not pass out again, his pulls out an assortment of herbs and begins mixing up some concoction.

“Anya? What on earth!” said Indra as she quickly moves towards Anya.

“Clarke…”

“Clarke?” Indra’s voice drops to a mere whisper at the mention of the Skia princess’s name.

Anya tries to will her tongue to move, but nothing but a rush of air escapes her lips. With each feeble attempt, Indra’s eyebrows furrow into deeper confusion.

“Anya I am not sure I understand,’’ said Indra, “Nyko the general is still distraught. Do you have anything to calm her back into sle-?”

“No, I must go!”

Before Indra and Nyko can react, Anya springs to her feet and sprints out towards the door. She knows how she is acting must seem crazy. And if she were to honest with herself, she might as well be crazy if her realization is correct.

The other Trikru warriors flash Anya puzzled stares as she weaves in and around the camp. Sprinting at high speeds she heads towards the far forest. Not once does Anya look back to see if Indra is chasing her. Seeing how abruptly she left the tent, Indra and Nyko are probably still standing in the tent stunned with shock.

As Anya nears the edge of the forest, she can feel her lungs begin to protest. But not once do her strides slow. The path has more roots exposed than she remembers and finds herself nearly catching her boots on the lifted roots. When the smell of incense draws into her nose, Anya knows her target is close. 

The small, eccentric tent is just how she remembers. Barging right in she doesn’t even let herself take in the surroundings. Her eyes dart wildly around the tent’s shadows looking for who she came for. Once her vision adjusts to the dim lighting, Anya spots the one she seeks sitting in the exact spot she left them only a few days ago.

“General,” the cloaked figure’s old raspy voice greets Anya’s. Not even stopping to catch her breath, Anya wipes away the sweat trailing down her forehead and begins pacing around the shaman’s tent. 

“How is it possible? We all saw the _tattoo_!” said Anya. Her tone is a little more aggressive than she means to be. But she’s here for answers not pleasantries.

“Hmmm.” They tap their staff softly in the dirt as if to take a second to gather up their thoughts. Then once collected; a frail hand stretches towards Anya. After a few seconds of uncertainty, the shaman takes their other hand and gently taps their palm signaling to Anya. Clueing in, Anya places her hand on the shaman’s unnaturally cold skin. 

“Hmmm very interesting…it appears you chosen to see. However, instead of clarity I sense a deep sorrow in you general; guilt weighs heavy upon you. And it appears the confusion you once had is being replaced with blame as the truth unravels.” The shaman takes their other hand and covers Anya’s as if the additional contact allows them to get a better read. “However, some of the answers you have already found are like poison. Lacing a heavy burden deep into your soul. But what I find the most interesting is that this immense amount of pain stirring inside of you, is not all pain for yourself now is it? So, the question is not how is it possible, but rather how did the impossible become possible?”

Anya feels her eyes widen in the unnerving accuracy of the _oudas newanas_ words. Retreating her hand back from the grasp, Anya massages her temples in attempts to gather her thoughts.

“All this time! I do not understand how we were so blind! How could you not say anything to your Heda?! You of all people should know how this destroyed her. Her soul died the day _she_ did and now you are telling me it was for nothing!” said Anya as she begins to pace once again around the confined tent.

“I never knew for sure, only suspected. Giving such false hopes to Heda would have only destroyed her further if my theory proved to be false. It was only until the Heir came back into my proximity was when I was able to confirm my suspicions.”

“How? How can you be so sure?”

“When the spirit of Wanheda was said to be harnessed by another I did not feel a shift in the spirit realm. I will be honest, when no change was felt I immediately sought the council of the other _oudas newanas._ After hours of debate I – we – concluded that Wanheda’s passing was nothing more than a mere deception,” said the shaman as Anya’s knuckles begin to whiten as she balls her fists together at the confirmation.

“I do not understand! Why only now are you able to confirm such theories?!”

“Each soul gives provides its own unique contribution to the energy that flows amongst the ground. Something I and the other _oudas newanas_ can feel. It is as if each being has its own voice. So, with each step Wanheda took away from Polis her soul’s song weakened to my ears until the ice fields of Azgeda were far enough to silence her melody. For five years I had almost forgotten the sound of Wanheda. That was until Heda summoned the armies to the Glowing Forest. When the Ice Queen released the winter wolf from her den the same song Wanheda’s soul once sung returned to my ears. So, as I said, I have always suspected, but it was only until Clarke returned to my proximity was I able to cement the last key to the puzzle.”

“Which explains why Klark and Lexa warmed up to each other so… so supernaturally fast?”

“Yes General, that is correct. I have seen _keryon_ _soujona_ make even the greatest of enemies forget about their personal vengeances.” 

Anya finds herself taken aback by the news. She suspected the truth, but hearing its confirmation is something else. Like a tidal wave an overwhelming sense of guilt washes over her as she recalls the words spoken to Lexa five years ago, _“I promise Lexa I will protect her. I will personally watch over her as I would you.”_

The same light headedness Anya had felt earlier today begins to creep back up her legs. Backing up she plants herself onto a chair placed in the corner of the dimly lit tent. Fixing her eyes onto the flickering embers Anya feels her chest begin to tighten as her thought’s remissness themselves into the past.

“I had promised Lexa I would protect Clarke. For years guilt has clawed itself deep into the flesh of my heart at my own person failure. Yet all this time our Skai princess was so close to our reach.” Anya’s words are no more than a mere whisper as her gaze continues to remain focused on the smouldering pit below. Losing herself to a painful daze of memories, no noise other than the soft crackle of the burning fire fills the dark space.

After a few more moments an off-putting laugh emerges from Anya. If the shaman is surprised by the sound, they do not show it. Instead they continue to twiddle their thumbs slow and patiently as if waiting for Anya to sort out her thoughts out loud.

“I am not sure what is more tragic. The fact that Azgeda has been playing us all for fools or that Clarke is nothing more than a carcass for the persona of Klark.” Anya springs up to her feet and immediately returns to pacing. She can feel herself become alive with determination. To say this revelation is extremely sensitive would be an understatement. Careful planning must be done if she wishes to preserve the Coalition. “Kla-- I mean Clarke has no idea who she is, so it wouldn’t hurt if things are kept quiet until after the war; especially since wars are only won with a united front.

I cannot foresee the Skaikru being so forgiving at this news. Abby has made progress over the years, but mothers can be unpredictable when their children are involved. Raven will most likely want to blow the ice nation up in revenge. And Octavia’s short temper could escalade the tension to unnecessary levels. And how will Azgeda react when they learn their beloved heir is not one of ice, but sky? All scenarios I am sure Indra would agree are best avoided!” Grabbing at her cotton shirt, Anya gently rubs the area over her heart to ease it’s racing tempo. “But I know keeping such a secret would be a direct betrayal to Lexa. She needs, well deserves to know the truth especially since it means her life is probably in danger. I hope Indra has some insights because I cannot even begin to imagine what this news will do to Lexa or how to even tell her…

Lexa, so you remember your _houman_ right? Yes, the skai princess who was burnt to a crisp beyond recognition. Well I think I have an answer your recent _keryon soujona_ ; we were all fooled! Surprise, Clarke is alive! Yes, you heard me right alive!

Oh, you want to see her?! Well there’s just a slight complication, she does not remember her old life and oh did I forget to mention that she not only has the Coalition’s strongest army under her control but she is the future Queen of Azgeda so I hope you like long distance.”

“Do you believe in destiny General?” The shaman’s old voice slightly startles her, stopping her mid rant. Anya was so focused on processing her thoughts she lost all sense of surroundings. For a moment she had forgot she was in company of another.

“Destiny?” 

“Yes destiny.”

“Well I will be honest I have personally never put too much thought into the concept.”

“Let me put it this way. Do you believe that a person’s path is set in stone? Paved precisely from point A to point B. Or is it possible that in order to get from point A to B a person has many different paths. Such as going through point C or D?”

“I honestly do not know.” Bashfully Anya looks down at her feet at the response. For as long as she can remember her every action, every decision is only made once the Commander’s well being has been considered. She’s had no time to dwell on life’s philosophies.

“Ah yes, an answer very similar to even those most faithful. Yet I feel that lecturing you on the concept of purpose is not a teaching meant for today. So I will leave you with this, I believe that there are no wrong turns, only unexpected paths. Five years ago, a star had turned to dust only to emerge as a wolf. A past _oudas newana_ had once learnt a key ingredient to a star’s formation is dust. Perhaps the star is not lost for good general, but the dust was needed in order to form a brighter, more powerful star.”

Anya’s lips press firmly together in attempts to decode the shaman’s riddles.

“But a wolf and a star are two completely different things. Even if whatever you are trying to say comes to fruition how will it be possible for a wolf and a star to be the same being?”

The old shaman runs their fingers through the wiry, white beard. The light from the smouldering embers illuminates their old features half exposed from underneath the hood of the cloak.

“In the old world, a sky watcher named Ptolemy once believed a star could be a wolf. We can hope for the best, but only time will tell if this will be the same fate for Wanheda.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so truth is out. War is coming, let the games begin.


	35. King of it All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Coalition gets it first chance to interrogate the hostage from the West. All are expectant to see what the ground will be up against when the enemy finally arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. Turns out I will be busy Wednesday so I thought I might as well upload now instead of making you wait until Thursday. Hope everyone is having a good week. As always, thanks for reading.

**_LUKAS_ **

_“Do you think this is wise Einar? This was never father’s dream for our people. On father’s death bed you promised him you would look after our people’s best interest, but here we. You have forcefully summoned our warriors to uproot from their families and follow you on this insane venture East!”_

_“I shouldn’t need to remind you that they are my warriors, not yours.”_

_“If they are really your warriors, then start acting like the leader they deserve and not some greedy mogul! We have been wandering in this uncharted territory for who knows now! And instead of life, all we have found is death. Do I have to remind you of the death toll we have already? This whole journey was ill prepared Einar. We are running out of food and water! I might not be the warlord you are, but I think the idea of dying in this foreign land is bad for our people’s morale. Let our people return home to the salty waters and hills of Llywood. Please Einar I beg of you, do not let your lust for more destroy our people!”_

_“Enough Lukas. I have already sent out a hunting party, our warriors will soon be fed. Father may have thought you to be wise, but I see you as nothing more than a spineless man. The book of Legends has yet to include people who would rather spend their days writing poems. Instead they contain tales of those who achieve greatness. And I will achieve greatness. The people do not care about poems Lukas; it was our great grand father who brought together the shore people and it was father who united the inland tribes with the shore.”_

_“So this is what all this about then? To have your name scribed in some book. You are of thick skull Einar of Llywood. Willing to throw everything our ancestors built into destruction only to become what?”_

_“King of it all.”_

_“King? King of what Einar? King of bones of your starved warriors? King of the trees? We have been wondering forever and found nothing worthy to be king of Einar. Wait…I know that look. What are you not telling me?”_

_“You think I am only brawn, but I am not as stupid as you think I am. A year ago, I secretly sent one hundred warriors East. I had thought they were lost but after awhile half returned to me with reports of foreign villages.”_

_“And the other half?”_

_“Apparently stayed behind for observation. My sources say we should be meeting up with them soon.”_

_“So, you are telling me you actually found life?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“And you have summoned every warrior to raid these so-called villages?”_

_“Yes. My warriors reported that these people are nothing but weak. I know we can easily overthrow them”_

_“Einar, you are a thick-headed fool! For hundreds of years our villages have enjoyed peace and prosperity. I do not think we can barely call ourselves warriors! The only real fighting our people have ever had to deal with was the war between the shore and inland. Which I shouldn’t have to remind you, was ceased by father years ago. You have called all our swords because one hundred of your warriors were able to raid unprotected villages? Did you ever once stop and think what happens when we meet those who protect these villages? Maybe we will be lucky, but I cannot help but feel we are walking into a trap!”_

_“So, do you not support my decision then Lukas?”_

_“No! I think you are being completely irresponsible! We need to turn back before the peace we have been blessed with spills onto the ground with unnecessary bloodshed.”_

_“Snap!”_ Einar’s whip cracked into the air contacting Lukas’ eye. The impact sends Lukas to his knees. Grabbing at his face, matter from Lukas’ once intact eye oozes between his fingers.

 _“It is treason to question my command. Punishable by death! But since you are my brother, losing just one eye will be your punishment. But your ill faith is not good for my kingdom, so from this day on I strip you of your duties as my advisor. In fact, there is a small party heading East to scout how close we are to the villages. I know you are not much of a physical man, but you are to accompany them anyways. Think of this as time for you to reconsider your opinions about me,”_ said Einar handing over a red cloth. “ _Stop your sniffling and take this_. _One day Lukas you will realize your lack of ambition was your downfall. All you will ever be known for is Lukas, son to Necalli, the peacemaker; and brother to Einar, King of the entire ground.”_

Lukas lifts his head slightly as he beings to drift back into consciousness. Slowly his eye flickers open but finds nothing more than darkness. It is disorientating, and the absence of light only brings anxiousness. 

He had been sitting around the fire before the ambush happened. Their scout was able to warn them, but it wasn’t enough. The warriors from the East attacked in a far more superior fashion. And before Lukas could escape, he was thrown atop a horse. The pace was fast so time blurred together. But this morning when the sun came up, his good eye fell upon a horizon of tents stretching further than Lukas could see. It was in that moment Lukas realized his brother’s greed would in fact be the downfall for his people.

He crinkles his nose at the weight of his situation. Making him aware of the fabric covering his only eye. It is uncomfortable, itchy even, but the lack of sight allows Lukas to focus on low murmurous fluttering around him. 

From what Lukas can tell there is at least four different voices. He strains his neck slightly hoping to catch what the small group is saying but deflates in defeat. The tones swirling around him are more clipped and sharper than his own native language. So much for talking his way out of this one. But before he can dwell on his unfortunate situation any further, the blindfold is ripped off.

Daylight cruelly attacks Lukas’ eye. Squinting for a moment he beings to focus onto the sharp tip of a spear. His line of site follows down the length of the wooden handle until meeting a warrior whose dark complexion complements her brown eyes. They burn into him with such intensity shivers race down his spine. 

Lukas squirms slightly under the uncomfortable weight of this warrior’s gaze. Breaking off the stare he looks past the warrior only to be greeted with many different faces. Some full of hate, some curious, but almost all possess a stare as intense as the warrior before him. Lukas continues to take in the people of the East. There are way more than four people here. But as he continues to scan, he notices one warrior who catches his attention.

Leaning on one of the tent’s poles, she stands at the back of the small crowd. Lukas finds himself drawn to her high, chiseled cheekbones. It perplexes him that she, unlike the others, seems to have little to no interest in him – a foreign intruder securely shackled to these two posts. Her presence here obviously confirms to him that she is someone of importance, which is why Lukas finds it so odd that her focus is not on him but drawn to whatever else is behind him.

 _“Chon yu bilaik?”_ His attention snaps back his interrogator whose spear now inches closer to the nape of his neck. All except the women by the tent pole lean in closer as if to eagerly await Lukas’ response.

 _“Chon yu bilaik?”_ The warrior’s scrambled sounding bark bounces uselessly into his ears sinking his heart further. The strange language is almost like a clipped growl flowing out of the grumpy warrior’s mouth. Lukas has read enough books to know that a communication barrier will not fare well for a hostage’s chance of survival.

If he cannot communicate with his captures, he cannot provide them with information. Once they figure this out, then their frustration will turn to desperation or perhaps boredom. Lukas shudders at the thought. He is nothing more than a mouse at the mercy of a cat’s claw.

“Where do you come from?!” said the interrogator as she presses the spear closer once again, “How many of you are out there?”

As she continues to question him with the unfamiliar sounding words, Lukas remains silent. Because what is the use? It is not like the people of the East will be able to understand Llywood’s language anyways. And besides, it has become clear to him that his death is inevitable. If he hadn’t been captured, he would have died in the upcoming battle. So why lose dignity pleading for an already doomed life?

“What is your name,” the scrambled growl continues, but this time the point of the spear presses slightly into the flesh of his neck. A slight metallic smell fills his nose as a tickle slides down into the collar of his shirt. 

Lukas has never been one for blood and finds himself becoming queasy at the thought. To avoid fainting, he shifts his attention back to the woman by the tent pole. The others have moved closer, but she has strangely remained in the same position. Lukas finds himself wondering what the reason is for her strange demeanour. Is it possible that she was close to some of the scouts his people killed? Or maybe like him, she is not fond of violence so chooses to remain in the shadows? A thought Lukas quickly dismisses when a larger male moves out from in front of her exposing an impressive weapon belt.

It is clear she is a formidable warrior. Not that he knows much about such things, but he feels from the extensiveness of her weaponry it is an educated conclusion. Whoever she is, one thing is certain. She is clearly disturbed about something as her gaze has yet to leave whatever is behind him. In fact, her haunted like look reminds Lukas of the time his best friend, Khali, claimed to have seen a ghost chasing them in the underground tunnels of Illywood’s abandoned food station.

“Well if this is the game you are going to play that is your call prisoner. Bring me a stool and the knife!” Lukas’ attention snaps back to his interrogator.

An enormous man pushes through the crowd. In his hands he holds a chair; moving closer, he places it underneath Lukas’ right hand. The interrogator grunts impatiently as two others step forward and loosen the slack in Lukas’ chains. With a thud his hand slaps onto the stool’s seat and before Lukas can comprehend what is happening, his eye catches a reflection.

_“Thud!”_

Inches away from his thumb, a large cleaver imbeds itself deep into the wood of the stool.

“Let me ask you again prisoner, what is your name?” The interrogator stalks closer to Lukas, her dark eyes full of impatience. “Your expressions betray you prisoner. We can all see that you are scared. It appears you are not as strong as we once thought. Again!”

_“Thud!”_

This time a gasp escapes Lukas’ lips. The wind from the cleaver’s movement blows across his hand before it embeds even closer to his thumb. He braces for a third swing. From the look on her face Lukas can tell the cat is growing bored with its prey and the next swing will not be so merciful.

“Again!” At her command, Lukas’ eyes widen as the cleaver is lifted into the air. Just before the large warrior swings the weapon into his flesh, Lukas feels something stir up in his stomach.

“Please stop!” Lukas’ words desperately fly out from behind teeth that were once clenched. To his surprise the large warrior takes a step back. Dropping the cleaver to his side he looks to the interrogator as if waiting for her direction. Lukas scans the small crowd in front of him. For a few moments he watches as puzzled glances are exchanged.

For the first time during this interrogation, the warrior with the chiselled cheekbones moves from the shadows and steps beside the interrogator with the spear. Placing a hand on top of the interrogator’s shoulder the two women share a quiet, almost telepathic like exchange.

From the way they look at each other, he can tell both women respect each immensely. The stare is intense, but lacks the spark two lovers would share. Still Lukas finds himself wondering what their connection is. He concludes they must be more like old friends and perhaps the silent conversation they share confirms their professional history goes back a long way.

After a few more moments, the pressure of the spear’s blade is removed from the nape of his neck. Lukas swallows in relief. He had been so overwhelmed by the cleaver he completely forgot the weapon was even there. Regardless, Lukas has just learnt two things.

First, his words had more of an influence than he thought they would; the fact that he didn’t lose his thumb (yet anyways) is a small victory. Secondly, it has been confirmed the warrior with the beautiful cheeks is someone of importance. From the way the others seem to respond to her, Lukas believes she is the leader of the East. So if he is to make it out alive, he needs to somehow win her favour.

Which then again might be a challenge as she has been very disinterested in him so far. Lukas looks up to meet the East leader’s eyes, but to his surprise her attention is once again just above his shoulder. In fact, it’s almost unnerving, but it seems everyone’s attention is not on him, but behind him.

“Turn him around,” a voice cuts through the air with such authority the hairs on the back of his neck instantly stand up. Lukas’ eyes widen. He had no idea that there were others behind him this whole time. But what he finds most shocking, is that the the authoritative voice issued the command in Llywood’s native language.

Two men do not even hesitate to follow the order as the slack in Lukas’ chains loosen further. The relief from the metal cuffs ceasing the dig into his wrist is welcomed, but is short lived. A swift kick to his stomach knocks the air out of his lungs. Like a small child Lukas collapses to the ground.

Before Lukas has a chance to recover, he is pulled up to his knees as another warrior securely grabs onto his hair. Pulling back Lukas’ head a knife finds itself at the base of his neck. The coolness of the blade is a stark reminder that his he is at the mercy of these East people. When Lukas opens his eye, he takes in the image before him. Had the wind not already escaped his lungs, the scene would have surely taken his breath away.

A towering throne, intricately woven together with wood twisting as if it were a collection of antlers, looms over Lukas. On either side of the throne stands his impatient interrogator and the uninterested warrior with beautiful cheeks. One rests her weight on a spear and the other stands with arms crossed as if to warn Lukas not to try anything he will regret.

But what keeps the air from filling back into his lungs isn’t the throne, but its occupant. An absolute essence of power, she is clothed in entirely black attire except for a red sash that Lukas can only presume symbolizes her title. He finds no warmth in her presence as she twirls a knife in between her fingers as if already bored of him. The stoic nature of her expression is unnerving, and Lukas cannot help but feel incredibly small as two green eyes accented by kohl burrow themselves deeps into his own.

“So, it appears the enemy who has been terrorizing our borders knows English,” said the leader as she continues to twirl her dagger in and around her lanky fingers.

“ _Thud_!” Lukas jumps as the dagger finally stills when it embeds itself deep into the throne’s armrest. He is embarrassed at his display of skittishness and finds himself looking to the warrior with chiselled cheeks for some sort of comfort. Which is a strange notion to try and find solace in a captor, but as irrational as it sounds, he finds the idea of her presence oddly soothing. But once again her attention is elsewhere. Somewhere to the distant left and Lukas tries to follow her gaze, but the East leader’s voice cuts through the air once again.

“So let us try this again, what is your name?”

“L-L,” as if his tongue is in a thick knot, he struggles to make a proper sound.

“Well?”

“L-Lukas. My name is Lukas.”

“And where do you come from…Lukas?” said the leader, emphasizing the ‘s’ in his name with a trailing hiss.

“From the West,” before he continues to diverge further information, he wonders what his brother would do in this situation. How much information should he give away? It’s not like withholding certain information would give his people any advantage, these people are warriors. _Real_ warriors, unlike anything he has ever seen. He can already tell his brother’s lust for power has made Illywood bite off more than can be chewed. But if he can somehow campaign for mercy, there may still be hope for his people. 

“Do not play me for a fool. I know you come from the West, but _where_ do you come from.”

“The West… er I mean Illywood, my people are from Illywood. A large city that is close to the ocean.” 

“And Why come to the East?”

“Our King has let his greed for power cloud all rationale.”

“I see,” said the leader as she removes the dagger from the throne and slowly begins to twirl it once again. “Your King must either be a fool or a great warlord to think he can march onto _my_ lands and become king over _my_ people. So, tell me Lukas, from what you have seen in my camp, do you think your King will succeed?”

“No,” the words escape his lips much faster than his thoughts have a chance to process. He is surprised by his own directness, and from the way the leader’s eyebrows rise before falling back into the stone façade he’s not the only one surprised.

“Commander! He has admitted his people are weak! Let’s waste no more time; allow me to slit his throat so we can direct our attention back to our war plan!” said the warrior with the spear, “Let us send a message and show these fools ho-,” a raised hand stops her mid speech.

“I have to wonder if your frankness is a ploy for deception. I feel you are telling the truth, but perhaps you are trying to gain an advantage for your people by giving us a false sense of security. Most times it isn’t the sword that causes death, but arrogance” said the leader. Or how his interrogator said, Commander. “Why speak against your people’s ability, what do you hope to gain?” 

“Mercy.”

“Mercy?” The Commander leans back into her throne, pondering the strange request, “and what does mercy look like to you Lukas?”

“I ask that you allow me to send a message back to my army. Illywood is a peaceful place, we are a kingdom who has hardly any war in our history. Please let me warn them about the impending fate they are marching into! If they knew what awaits them then they will have the chance to turn back to Illywood, _unharmed_.”

“A bold request for our Commander,” said the warrior with the beautiful cheeks as she removes her attention from the crowd in the far-left corner. “What makes you think you can speak for the desires of your people; should this not be your King’s job?”

Lukas presses his lips together at the sting behind her comment. Sixteen years ago, had he been more interested in his birth right than the books in the library, Illywood wouldn’t be facing the threat of extinction. A regret that now weighs heavy on his chest, but he knows all to well that the mistakes of the past cannot be changed, only the future.

“I may not be their King, but I am their Prince.” He pauses just in time for a few gasps to be heard around the tent, “my people may think they want this war, but they do not. Their desires have been clouded by my brother’s need for power, all I ask is you please reconsider this war. Extend an olive branch and let us retreat back to our home.”

“You do not know what you ask of our Commander!” said a large man as he steps in front of the Commander’s stage. “Many of my villagers were slain at the hands of your King’s scouting party! The Glowing Forest seeks what we are owed _jus drein jus daun!”_

_“Jus drein jus daun! Jus drein jus daun! Jus drein jus daun!”_

The chant takes off like rapid fire. Spears pound into the ground. Swords collide with shields. Soon the tent is filled with the thunderous chants of these strange words.

“ _Em Pleni!”_ said the Commander and instantly silence washes over the room. “ _Jus drein jus daun_ has been called and I promise you Tiko we all will grant you the revenge you seek. When one of us dies at the hand of an enemy it affects us all. That is why we have united here in the Glowing Forest. In the days ahead, we will avenge the fallen!”

A roar of agreement fills the tent. Once the voices have silenced the Commander continues, “The battle in the upcoming days may test us as a Coalition, but I know the blood on our swords will avenge every Glowing Forest spirit whose life was cut premature. Today however, the Ice Nation grieves the loss of their beloved prince. And as fate would have it, the Old Warrior has brought us a prince of Illywood in return. _Kwin_ Klark, please step forward.”

At the prompt Lukas finds himself wondering what exactly is the hierarchy of these people. There is no doubt the Commander is in absolute control, but how does the chain of command underneath her work? Tiko referred to the lost villagers as _his_ people – the Glowing Forest. Apparently the dead prince belonged to an Ice Nation and from the terrain of the East there has been no so called ice. Not that he knows what ice is, but from the way Lukas’ books describe it, he imagines ice to be nothing like this swampy like land.

Observing the crowd further Lukas notes the different skin tones of the warriors before him. Some sun kissed and some as pale. So it is evident that the territories of the East stretch far into different types of climates. Which puts a terrifying perspective on just how big the kingdom of the Commander stretches. But before he can ponder further, shuffling from the far-left corner distracts his train of thought.

Lukas sucks in a breath when he lays eyes on the one called _Kwin_ Klark. Long, red hair is woven into a complex sequence of cascading braids. As if to resemble snow itself, she is clothed in all white while an elegant, furred cloak covers her small frame. Like the Commander she wears warpaint, but unlike the Commander the black and white pattern conceals all her facial features. _Kwin_ Klark has an essence of authority and the room knows it. From the way the others look at her Lukas cannot decide if it is because they see her as a god or fear what she is capable of.

“Klark, you and the Ice Nation have been burdened with a heavy loss today,” said the Commander as Lukas carefully watches the interaction. Oddly, something in the Commander’s demeanour has changed since this _Kwin’s_ presence, but Lukas can’t put his finger on exactly what. He remains so infatuated with the dynamic between these two leaders, he doesn’t even register the Commander’s words as she continues to talk so devoting to the _Kwin_. “We cannot revive the dead, but we can do our best to honour their memory. Today _jus drein jus daun_ is yours.”

The sound of two swords unsheathing snaps Lukas out of infatuation. Before he can blink, Lukas is face to face with _Kwin_ Klark. Cold, vengeful eyes chill him from the inside out, but even in her hollowed stare, Lukas cannot help but notice just how blue her eyes are. A colouring remarkably like the colour of Llywood’s ocean.

The ocean is a powerful body of water. But even in all its might, it has always brought Lukas a sense of peace. Closing his good eye, Lukas brings himself back to an evening he had once spent on the beach.

A light blanket protectively wraps around his shoulders as the sun begins to slowly disappear behind the horizon. It is an exceptionally calm night tonight and even though the sun is slipping away, the lighting is still perfect for finishing the last chapter of his book. Turning a page, he crinkles his toes. The sensation of the gritty sand squishing in-between his feet, tickles his skin. Softly the ocean’s waves crash themselves onto the shore, overwhelming him with a sense of peace. He inhales the fresh, salty air; for the first time in a long time Lukas has finally returned home.

“ _Thud!”_

The dismembered head rolls to Klark’s feet. Anya watches with slight disturbance as Klark lifts the Prince’s head. Snarling, Klark stares with fiery revenge into the prisoner’s lifeless eyes.

“For Demetri,” whispers Klark before nonchalantly tossing the head next its detached body.

Klark looks feral. Her once snow-white attire is near ruined from a deep crimson splatter that runs from her waist and up into her red hairline. A scene Anya finds very unsettling, not because of the execution, but the fact the executioner was once someone who believed in a much different form of justice.

“We are dismissed. Return to your camps and begin the final preparations for war,” said Lexa. Removing her gaze from Klark, Lexa turns to her generals, “Indra have a few of your warriors remove this body and burn it by the woods immediately”

“Are you sure Heda? He was an enemy; should we give him such an honour?” questions Indra

“Yes, Lukas may have been an enemy, but I suspect he was a good man. His brother however, I do not have the same intuition,” said Lexa, standing for the first time as she leans into a deep stretch. “Lukas pleaded for mercy, so I will allow him to deliver his intended message. Anya, bring me a box and piece of paper; I have a gift for this so-called King.” 


	36. Jus Drein Jus Daun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Einar's army and the Commander's Coalition finally come face to face. It's a battle that leaves both sides second guessing their first impressions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, I hope everyone is having a good weekend. Just realized I won't be around tomorrow, so here is the next instalment and will be responding to last chapter's comments tomorrow night. Thanks all for the continuing feedback - every comment is much appreciated. As always, thanks for reading. 
> 
> ****Please note, this chapter is the battle scene. As the rating is explicit this chapter does dabble with blood/gore and death. Just wanted to let you know incase this is a sensitive topic for you. See you all Wednesday.

**_EINAR_ **

“My King! My King!” The loud disruption pulls Einar out of his thoughts.

“Yes, what is it?” Einar finds himself annoyed from the interruption. He had been imagining himself returning to Illywood fresh from victory over the people of the East. And best yet, his people celebrated him as a returned King, the King of it all.

“We have received a message!”

“From the scouting party?”

“No, from the people of the East! We captured a messenger this morning. Before he slit his own throat, he gave us this,” said the messenger handing Einar a box. Taking the box into his hands Einar curiously inspects the outside. There appears to be nothing unusual or dangerous looking about this crate. Once Einar is satisfied it is safe, he reaches for his dagger. Impatiently he uses his weapon to pry open the nailed top.

Lifting off the lid Einar clasps a hand over his nose. The smell from the box is unbearable. A rotten scent that churns like butter in his stomach. Once the initial shock is over, Einar peers into the crate to see a note on top of a bundle of stained cloth. Unfolding the note, Einar is taken aback. The message is scribed in Llywood’s native language.

“What does it say,” questions the messenger.

“King of the West,” Einar begins reading out loud. “I have been asked to extend you and the people of Illywood mercy and this gift is my olive branch. Turn back and return home or you will all suffer the same fate as your Prince – the Commander.”

Einar tries to conceal the slight tremble in his hand from the messenger. What has happened to Lukas? Removing the stained cloth, Einar’s blood rushes away from his face. The sight of Lukas’ dismembered head is so horrific Einar bites his cheeks in attempts to stop himself from vomiting.

“My King, what is it? What is the message?”

“An act of war.” Einar throws the crate to the floor. The messenger’s eyes become wide when Lukas’s head rolls out onto the ground. “Summon the generals, we march at dawn!”

“Of course my King,” said the messenger covering his own nose.

Once the messenger dips out of the tent Einar cannot hold back any longer. Dashing to a corner, Einar spews out his breakfast. He never should have ordered Lukas on that scouting mission. Now Lukas’ death will forever weigh heavy on his conscious. But worst yet, what if Lukas had been right, what if Einar has let his greed cloud his judgement?

Vomiting again, Einar slumps to the floor as a wave of doubt washes over him. He knows when they march, he will have to look strong, but it will all be an act as he has just realized he is not the great warlord his people believe him to be.

* * *

**_ANYA_ **

Anya impatiently paces in Lexa’s tent as she waits for Lexa to arrive. It has been almost a week since her earth-shattering realization and Anya has finally decided it’s time to share her findings about Klark. It’s not that Anya has wanted to keep the truth from Lexa this long, but there hasn’t been a good opportunity to talk to Lexa. After sending Lukas’ head back to his people, Lexa has been in overdrive making sure all the clans are ready for the looming battle.

In fact, it’s been so busy Anya hasn’t even had the opportunity to discuss her findings with Indra. Mostly because Anya has been procrastinating the conversation, but partly because she decided Lexa should be the first to learn of the truth. Truthfully, Anya thought she had more time to have this conversation with Lexa, but just this morning the scouts have rushed back with news. Illywood’s army will be here by sunrise.

Which is why she finally decided to tell Lexa. Lexa deserves the truth. What if her or Klark fall in battle? At least Lexa will have a day knowing what happened to her Clarke. Or maybe learning the truth will be a terrible distraction for Lexa? Anya’s lips fall into a fine line. Should she wait until after the battle? Such thoughts torment her as she continues to pace Lexa’s tent. 

“Anya? I didn't expect to see you before our final meeting,” said Lexa entering the war tent.

“I know. I am sorry for the intrusion, but I just wanted to discuss a few things before the meeting starts.”

“Alright, what’s on your mind?” Lexa finds a chair, eagerly waiting Anya’s words.

“I know we had discussed the battle formations with Indra last night, but I think we should change them.”

“Oh? I thought we agreed the Trikru’s position was best by the Flokru?”

“Yes, but I think we should realign ourselves.” Nervously Anya cracks her knuckles under Lexa’s questioning eyes, “I think it would be best to have the Trikru fight alongside Azgeda.” Lexa’s face immediately twists into confusion at Anya’s request. Especially because over a week ago, Anya expressed zero interest in fighting beside the Ice Nation. So, Anya knows she needs to explain herself. “I have spent time thinking and I think it would be best if my troops are positioned next to Klark’s.”

“Out of all the things you could have said, I was not expecting this.” A tease like grin crosses Lexa’s face, “Anya are you secretly trying to tell me that you want the Ice Nation’s protection?”

Anya rolls her eyes, “No, I think we both can agree our warriors can hold their own.”

“So why change our plans?”

“When the war is over, we both know we will have to deal with whatever Azgeda and our yet to be found treasonous informant are planning. I can foresee that the future could bring us much chaos, but one thing I have noticed is that Klark brings a sense of calmness to a feral tribe. I believe we will be most successful at handling Azgeda if Klark is alive to help balance out Nia’s ruthlessness.”

Lexa taps the base of her chin as she mulls over Anya’s request. From Lexa’s expression Anya can tell Lexa is confused at Anya’s change of heart. If roles were reversed Anya would be confused too. For as long as the Ice Nation has been in camp, Anya has been nothing but skeptical. In particular, she has been wary of Klark’s intentions and has constantly discouraged Lexa about her growing desire to get close to Klark. Yet here she is requesting to be closer to the heir.

“An excellent point Anya. One that I agree with, so it will be done. We will position our troops next to Azgeda’s.”

Anya’s shoulders relax at the granted request, “Thank you, Lexa.”

“However, I still find your request puzzling Anya. If I didn’t know any better, it almost seems like you are being protective over Klark?”

“Well..” Anya starts as she cracks her knuckles again with nervousness. Lexa is not wrong; Anya’s request is one of protectiveness. But what Lexa doesn’t know is it is driven from a promise she had once made to Lexa. It feels like an eternity ago, but Anya once promised Lexa that she would protect Clarke at all costs. Something Anya had failed. But seeing as Klark is _actually_ Clarke, Anya cannot help feeling the need to uphold that promise. Even when she knows the _seken_ has far surpassed the mentor. “Lexa, there’s something I think you sho-”

“Heda the leaders are beginning to arrive!” Adrian abruptly dips into the tent. Pressing her lips together in annoyance Anya silently curses to herself. The opportunity to tell Lexa has just slipped through her fingers.

“Very well, welcome them in,” said Lexa. Curiously, Lexa looks to Anya, “Anyways, what were you saying?”

“It’s fine, it is nothing important.” Anya cringes at the lie but seeing as the meeting is about to start Anya reassures herself that it is a necessary one.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, it can wait until after we have won the war.”

“Very well,” said Lexa as she removes her attention from Anya and finds her place on top her throne. Scanning the leaders assembled around the long war table, Lexa clears her throat, “It is time.”

* * *

**_KLARK_ **

Klark stands taking in her reflection in the tarnished mirror. Today is the day they have been waiting for. Within hours they will be marching into battle, a thought Klark finds slightly nerve-wracking. Which is a surprise because Klark has never been nervous for a battle before. Usually she can’t get enough of the druglike adrenaline that flows through her veins. But not today, today she is anxious.

Feelings that made Klark toss and turn all through the night. And now she finds herself already dressed for battle well before the sun has a chance to rise. Adjusting her leathers for the hundredth time, Klark ponders on these new feelings. This is the first battle she will fight without Demetri or Ontari by her side. Sure Echo is more than capable to protect her back, but perhaps the thought that the _bloka_ will never fight together again is what’s unsettling her. Or is it that when Klark returns to Azgeda she will only be welcomed by Demetri’s empty room. A constant reminder that his spirit is now traveling into the next world. Klark presses her lips together, well that’s if she ever goes home. 

If the Coalition is victorious, there will be a day or so of celebrations then the clans will begin to disburse back home. Which means when Azgeda stops to rest in Polis Klark will need to decide how to handle her mother’s task. It is a lose-lose situation for Klark, because whatever choice she makes the consequences will result in a betrayal of someone she loves.

This journey south has proved to Klark that her mother is nothing but a twisted, liar who manipulates people for her own benefit. But as evil as Nia can be or even after learning Nia has chosen to hide whatever it is from Klark, Klark can’t seem to shake her love for her mother.

And then there’s Lexa. At that thought, Klark cannot help but smile. Months ago, Klark would have laughed herself to death if anyone would have told her that she would soon fall in love. Klark softly chuckles to herself at the irony, she had been given one task. All she had to do was eliminate the despised Commander, but what did she decide to do instead? Fall so helplessly in love with the target. It’s messy, and the whole situation is almost as twisted as one of Nia’s games. And truthfully if Nia would ever learn of the truth, she would surely suffer a stroke.

Klark laughs again at the thought. Walking over to her desk, she pulls out her chair. Klark has never been much of a romantic, but that is partly because she has never felt this way about anyone before. But seeing as there is still sometime before the armies march out, Klark finds herself desiring to do something a little unexpected. Grabbing for a piece of paper and a pencil Klark begins to write.

 _“Dear Lexa,”_ Klark starts. Looking back down at the words, Klark crumples the paper. Dear Lexa? Not only does that not sound fitting, but Klark would prefer to leave their names out of it in the event this note falls into the wrong hands. So Klark starts again. Then again, then again. After what feels like the hundredth letter and a mountain of crumpled papers later, Klark rereads her final draft.

 _“_ _f the Old warrior fates this day to be our final goodbye, then so be it. I will accept my fate. But what I cannot accept is the injustice it would be if my spirit moves on before I can finally admit that I have fallen for you. The last month has been a twist of events I never thought possible and our journey is probably something the poets of the old world would have written much about. Take care on the battlefield. The Coalition needs you; our people need you, and I need you. I hope to see you tonight,_

_I love you._

_P.S._

_I want you to wear my bracelet today. It was given to me as a gift when I ascended as heir. Even though we will be an army apart, it will be my way of reminding you that I will be thinking of you.”_

Once happy with the letter, Klark folds the parchment into two, removes her bracelet and tucks both into an envelope. Looking at her empty wrist, Klark feels slightly naked without the golden band. Nia forged it from gold bricks taken from Azgeda’s treasury as a gift for Klark’s Ascension Day. And since Klark received it, it has not left her wrist until now. It has been sort of a good luck charm for Klark and that is why she wants Lexa to wear it. If Klark dies today, then that is one thing, but she cannot bear the thought of living in a world without Lexa. Which is why Klark hopes that by giving her bracelet away Lexa will be protected with the same luck Klark has.

“Hondo?” Klark calls out towards the tent's entrance.

“Yes my _kwin_?” Hondo enters without a second to spare.

“I need you to do me a favour, but it has to be discrete.”

“Yes, of course.” Nervously, Hondo runs his hand through his wild, flame like hair.

“I need you to take this to the Commander’s tent immediately,” said Klark handing over the envelope. “Do not tell anyone where you are going, if they ask tell them it is the _kwin’s_ business. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes. It will be done at once my _kwin._ ”

* * *

**_LEXA_ **

It has been ten minutes since Lexa gave the final war speech and now it is the worst moment of battle. The waiting game. The empty void waiting for Illywood’s army makes Lexa shift anxiously atop her horse. Running her hands through her horse’s mane, Lexa scans her unified army. It appears by the way some step side to side, they too have last-minute jitters.

She looks over to the Sankru as Igor is making some sort of last-minute hurrah to uplift his warriors further. Lexa rolls her eyes. The gesture is good for the Sankru’s morale, but it’s a typical Igor move. He would want to be the one with the last word. In other circumstances Lexa would usually want to be amused with his words, but not this time. There is no way she wants to spend her last potential moments in this life listening to him blabber on. Instead Lexa directs her attention to Azgeda’s army. 

Anya was not lying when she had first said the Ice Nation is not the same army the Coalition had fought years ago. This army is impeccably organized, perhaps even more than the Trikru. Of course, Lexa would never openly express that thought and besides, Azgeda may be organized, but that doesn’t mean they will out fight the Trikru. But now is not the time for the debate on which clan is the best, the only thing Lexa cares about is minimizing unnecessary casualties.

Lexa touches the gold bracelet wrapped around her wrist. Well if she were to be honest, Lexa is hoping that if the Old warrior must choose, that he will choose to extend his protection onto a certain someone. Lexa bites the corner of her lip as simmer of guilt lines her stomach. How selfish of her to wish Klark’s survival over her other people.

As Commander she cannot openly have favourites, but as Lexa? Well Lexa wants nothing more than to be able to celebrate victory with Klark tonight. The thought of Klark brings Lexa’s attention to the young heir and Lexa finds herself thankful Anya wanted to change positions. 

Not only can Lexa see Klark clearly, but Anya’s faction is stationed right next to Klark’s which provides Lexa an extra sense of security that Anya can protect Klark’s flank if need be. Admiring Klark from the distance, Lexa notices how fierce and beautiful she looks sitting her horse. Just as Klark had been wearing on the first day Azgeda arrived, Klark’s all white assemble is exquisite. From an outside perspective, there is no question that Klark is a leader. Which worries Lexa slightly as the enemy will no doubt recognize Klark’s importance. And unlike Klark, Lexa cannot, no will not _,_ accept that today will be the final goodbye. This is the first time in five years Lexa has found wholeness and she will not accept anything less. The thought of Klark’s letter twists Lexa’s stomach into butterflies. Klark has admitted that she needs her. No, _loves_ her. It will be a complicated love, but Lexa is ready for it. 

Lexa touches the gold bracelet again, finding a sense of grounding. If Lexa wishes to see Klark tonight, she knows she cannot be plagued with worry for Klark. Worrying will only make Lexa loose focus, which could result in deadly mistakes. Klark is an exceptional warrior who not only has an entire army concerned for her safety but is more than capable to hold her own. Klark will be fine, Lexa reassures herself. Of course she will be fine, she is the winter wolf after all.

_“Jus drein jus daun!”_

A cry from far down the line interrupts Lexa’s worried thoughts.

“ _Jus drein jus daun!”_

Another chant breaks the silence and like a wave the call for revenge raises up until the entire army cries for blood. It is a thunderous sound. One that makes Lexa smile as the horizon finally reveals Illywood’s army emerging overtop the hill. Looking back to Klark, Lexa is relieved to see her waiting to share one last exchange. And even though Klark is probably too far away to see the gesture, Lexa feels the prompt to whisper a quick, ‘I love you too.’ Klark may not see it, but at least the spirits will now that Klark kom Azgeda has captured Lexa’s heart.

Raising her sword, the golden bracelet catches the sun as the Coalition’s entire army dashes towards the enemy at their Commander’s prompt.

* * *

**_EINAR_ **

_“Jus drein jus daun! Jus drein jus daun! Jus drein jus daun!”_

The foreign chant rises from behind the hill in a deafening roar. Einar is not yet at the top of the hill, but most of his army is and he can tell how some of his warriors look back at him, they are terrified. Trotting up with his advisors, Einar finally joins the rest of his army.

“My King!” Cayden, an advisor who replaced Lukas, turns to Einar. “This army! It is nothing like the weak villagers you have promised. How can you expect us to win! My King?”

Einar’s throat squeezes into a tight ball. It is as if he is swallowing the bitter pill of his own pride. Cayden is right, the army that awaits them is nothing like his scouts had described the people of the East to be. Their numbers stretch as far as the eye can see, perhaps out numbering Illywood’s army four to one. The organization of the different colours behind the thirteen banners is evidence that Lukas had been right. Einar did not do his due diligence on the Eastern people. Now his own people will suffer because Einar’s lust of for power clouded his judgement. And from the way the army chants below, Einar will not be King of it all rather King of the bones. 

“My King?!” Cayden calls out again, “what are your orders?”

“My orders?”

“For god’s sake Einar, the generals, our warriors are all looking to you. What are your orders?!” 

“To fight for Illywood’s glory!” said Einar snapping out of his shock. Einar trots out to the front lines to address his people with the best King’s façade he can muster up, “Warriors of Illywood! Today is the day that our books will write about for thousands of years! For it is the day the West will rule finally rule it all! Do not let their chants intimidate you, as unlike you, the East does not have the Watcher’s favour!” Einar thrusts his sword into the air, “Now let us push forward to victory!”

At his signal, Einar watches as Illywood’s army rushes down into the valley.

“It has been an honour to serve beside you my King,” said Cayden trotting back up next to Einar, “but now that death is rushing towards me, I will take this opportunity to speak free. I wish you had accepted this Commander’s olive branch. As the only thing I can foresee history will be writing about is how the men of Illywood were destroyed by one King’s greed.”

The words hit Einar like a slap. And before Einar can defend himself, Cayden rides down to join the other warriors. But what is there to defend? Cayden is right, Einar’s pigheadedness has led his people to an inevitable death one that not even the Watcher can save them from now.

Alone, Einar remains frozen at the top of the hill as he watches West collide with East. As the blood of his people spray into the air, a warm sensation runs down his leg filling his nose with a stench of urine.

“Forgive me Lukas for disgracing your birthright,” Einar whispers to himself as he spurs his horse down the hill. “Have the servants prepare the feast; I will see you soon brother.”

* * *

**_ANYA_ **

Anya thrusts her blade at another warrior’s throat. The momentum cuts deep into the neck’s tendons sending a crimson splatter into Anya’s face. So far the battle has been going as well as a battle can go. There is no doubt Lukas had been right, the Coalition will win, but the question is when. The warriors of Illywood may not be the most skilled, but they have determination. A combination that makes them unpredictable and dangerous.

Anya stabs her blade through another warrior with such force the blade exits out of the warrior’s back. To remove her blade, Anya places a swift kick into the now paralyzed man’s chest and heads to face her next opponent. 

As a crucial artery is nicked, another warrior baptizes Anya with body fluid. Scanning her position on the battlefield, Anya observes how the Trikru and Azgeda lines have blurred and somehow in the heat of battle she finds herself fighting alongside more Azgedian warriors than Trikru. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing as this positioning has allowed Anya to keep Klark in her proximity.

But much to Anya’s dismay Klark has been hard to keep in her sights. Unlike other clan leaders who like to stay protected behind their armies, Klark prefers to be in the thick of battle. Which means her exposure to threat is much higher than Anya anticipated the heir to put herself through. Many would consider the exposure unnecessary, but Anya can tell that the heir’s presence in the front lines motivates the Ice warriors’ morale. Though it is becoming harder to spot Klark on the battlefield as Klark’s once all white attire is now stained a deep red. Even her war paint and red hair show no signs of their natural colours as Klark mercilessly hacks away at enemies.

A sudden surge of Illywood warriors slightly scatters their formation. Looking to Klark, Anya notices how Echo has been forced away from Klark’s side. Leaving Klark to battle four warriors for dominance. But without Echo at her back, Klark does not have the time to see a fifth warrior approaching from behind. Without thinking Anya breaks her own formation and begins to sprint towards Klark. As Anya is steps away from Klark, the large warrior raises his hammer and before he can swing down Anya lunges. Crashing into Klark with such momentum Anya topples Klark over as both tumble into the dirt.

 _“Crack!”_ The sound of hammer meeting skull is lost amongst the chaos. Anya’s attempt was enough to push Klark away from safety, but not enough to get herself out of the hammer’s range of motion. Anya crashes hard into the ground and before she can defend herself from the warrior’s second swing the world around her goes black.

* * *

**_KLARK_ **

The air rushes out of Klark’s lungs as an unexpected force tackles her to the ground. The carnage of the battlefield twists and turns into disorienting shapes as the dust from the earth cakes onto her bloodstained face. Spitting out a mixture of blood and dirt Klark tries to make sense of the situation. But all attempts of comprehending are cut short when a towering warrior casts a shadow over Klark. As he lifts his hammer Klark attempts to jump up, but the attempt is proven feeble as a heavy weight keeps Klark grounded. Without a further thought, Klark launches a dagger square into the warrior’s eye. The weapon embeds deep into his socket and like a towering tree the warrior planks to the ground.

Taking advantage of the slight lull in the battle, Klark takes in the unconscious body on top her. Pushing the limp weight off, Klark’s eyes widen with confusion when she recognizes her saviour.

“Anya?” Klark firmly slaps the sides of Anya’s face, “General you need to get up, another wave is approaching!”

So many questions bounce haphazardly in Klark’s mind. What is Lexa’s most important general doing so close to the front lines and among Azgeda’s formation no less?! Klark clenches her jaw. There is no time for such questions, she needs to get Anya out of here before Anya gets trampled on or worse, succumbs to this profusely bleeding head wound.

“Wall! I need a wall!” Instantly a large group of warriors circle themselves protectively around Klark and Anya. Grabbing at the largest warrior, Klark begins shouting over the turmoil, “You! Carry the Trikru general past the back lines. Run as if _my_ life depends on it and do not stop until you are certain she is safe!”

If Klark’s warriors are questioning they do not show it. Especially since Klark has never gone to such lengths to ensure the safety of a fallen warrior. Every warrior is important to her but as much as it weighs on her conscious it is a principle Klark has learned she must stand by.

It would be impossible for Klark to fight against an enemy in addition to ordering survival missions for every injured warrior. Which is why she has come to view battle as roulette. It is like a dark game of chance and if it is a warrior’s fate to die, then so be it. Klark cannot change the Old Warrior’s planned destiny. But Anya is special to Lexa, so by default Anya should be special to Klark. So maybe just this once Klark can attempt to interrupt the Old Warrior’s plans.

“Now all of you, move out!” yells Klark. And at once the wall pushes against the lines towards safety. Turning just in time Klark readies herself as Echo returns to her side. Nodding to her sister, Echo and Klark brace themselves once again for another wave or warriors running towards them. 

* * *

**_EINAR_ **

The stench of blood and shit pollute the air as Einar’s lungs burn with exhaustion. He’s seen death before, but never has he experienced such carnage and chaos like this. Not once in the book of Legends does it describe this side of war. 

He is not sure what his location is on the battlefield. Amongst the madness he and a chunk of his men got separated from the bulk of Illywood’s dwindling army, but by the amount of bodies laying in the dirt he can tell that they are dangerously deep in enemy lines.

Thrusting his spear Einar buries the blade deep into a stomach of a large warrior. The stabbed man meets Einar’s gaze, but instead of fear Einar only finds crazed hazel eyes. It is as if the warrior is high off the battle itself. Einar attempts to retrieve his spear from the man’s gut but is stopped as the large warrior reaches far onto the spear’s handle and begins to pull Einar closer by forcing the spear further into his own body.

Einar’s eyes widen. Even at death’s door he is no match for this beast of a man. Now face to face with the warrior, the warrior spits up a bloody mixture into Einar’s face and immediately the liquid stings his eyes. Before Einar can recover from the assault, the warrior catapults his head forward and impacts a hard head bunt into Einar’s forehead.

Warriors fighting around twist and morph into blurred blobs as Einar’s ears ring from the blow. The impact has caused a strange effect in Einar; it is almost like his physical body has become separated from himself. As if experiencing astral like travel, Einar scans the chaotic field with a different set of eyes.

A head of a dismembered warrior rolls onto the ground only to be kicked to the side as if the being it had once been attached to was worthless. Blood sprays high into the air when two swords crisscross over critical arteries. The sound of bones snapping and popping as they twist in unnatural ways echo haunting melodies into his ears. The bloodcurdling screams of his old friend raises Einar’s neck hair as an animal like warrior bites deep into his friend’s jugular. A scream only to be silenced when the crunch of tendons exposes an open throat. And the noise? There is so much dam noise Einar wishes for nothing more than to make it all stop. Falling to his knees Einar snaps back into his body. Overcome with guilt at the slaughter of his people, Einar beats at his chest as he looks with thick disorientation for Cayden.

“Cayden! Cayden!”

“Yes, my King?!”

“The horn, sound the horn!” Einar tears at his own shirt with a surge of emotion, “We must run. Run anywhere but here.”

The sound of the horn blasts over the battlefield. For a moment, warriors from both sides freeze at the sudden noise before the Illywood warriors recognize the sign of retreat. Turning on their heels, the warriors begin to withdraw back to the top of the hill. Einar too turns to escape, but the leathers from a whip wrap tightly around his throat. Pulled with great force to the ground, the wind rushes from his lungs.

“Bring him to me!” An order in an unrecognizable language demands from behind, “The crown he wears means he is the King and I want him to learn the consequences of ruling with greed.”

Einar’s breath catches in his chest when the voice’s owner steps into his view. The smudge of black kohl streaking around her eyes emphasizes the forest like green colour. There is no doubt that this woman is the one they call Commander and even under the circumstances Einar finds her to be terrifyingly beautiful.

“Heda do not get too close! Not only does he smell like piss, but he might have a hidden weapon!”

“Do not fear Ryder, from the way this King looks he is too distraught to try anything. But I will be careful.” The Commander crouches in front of Einar as if snarling, she bares her teeth, “Lukas begged for mercy and it appears you did not care to listen. Now your people will die because of your greed.”

Einar’s eyes widen. Still winded from the fall he barely can form his words, “You speak our language? How?”

The Commander does not respond. Instead she grabs a fistful of Einar’s hair, pulling him with great force to his knees. 

“Your people have already run far; too bad it will not be far enough. Ryder blow the horn. It’s time for the Skaikru to play their part.” The bullhorn’s deep blast carries over the battlefield. With an impatient force, the Commander pulls Einar up from his knees and pushes him into the firm grasp of the warrior she referred to as Ryder, “I want you to watch what your selfish desires have done to your people.”

“ _Bang_!”

A deep, resonating sound unlike Einar has ever heard before echoes in the valley.

“ _Bang! Bang! Bang_!”

The thunderous sounds continue to pop. One by one Einar watches in horror as his people stop dead in their tracks as if colliding against an invisible wall.

“What are you doing to them?! Please! I beg of you, please stop,” screams Einar as he thrashes wildly in Ryder’s arms. “Commander have mercy!”

“Mercy?! Mercy had been extended to you, but you chose to ignore it!” The Commander gestures towards the massacre as Illywood’s warriors continue to be slaughtered with the strange sounds. “This is no ones doing but your own.”

“Please!” Einar begins to sob uncontrollably, clawing at his own eyes in efforts to stop seeing the death before him. “Kill me so I do not have to watch!”

“I promise you this Einar of Illywood, you are about to die but it will not be slow, nor will it be merciful. The death all around us is on your own hands and blood must have blood!” Gesturing to a few warriors the Commander signals towards Einar, “Hack off his limbs so this King is nothing more than a stump! I want you to do your best to cauterize each wound, so he will not die from blood loss, but from starvation amongst the bodies of his rotting warriors. This way he can have a few days to think about his actions!”

“No please no! Commander you can’t! This isn’t huma-!” The axe swings fast. Embedding deep into Einar’s flesh his hopeless pleas are turned into haunted screams. What Einar wouldn’t give to turn back time and listen to his brother.

* * *

**_LEXA_ **

Lexa numbs herself to the sound of Einar’s anguished screams as she silently reassures herself that she did the right thing. Blood must have blood; it is their way and it will always be their way. But now is not the time to dwell on her decisions, they must burn their fallen before the celebrations can start.

“Start assembling the wood for the pyres!” said Lexa gesturing to a few bystanders. Without hesitation they disburse for the materials. “Indra, what are the reports?”

“Some clans have suffered heavier losses than others, but even with Illywood’s unexpected efforts, our overall losses are just as we predicted.”

“Good, and the _leaders_?” Lexa bites the inside of her lip to avoid looking too eager, but Indra sees right through Lexa’s façade.

“I have yet to hear on the wellbeing of the Ice princess, but most clans have already reported that their leaders have survived. Igor, did however, get an arrow in the arm but he too will survive.”

“Oh.” Lexa presses her lips with slight disappointment. Not because Igor wasn’t killed (even though the Coalition would probably be better without him) but because there has yet to be confirmation of Klark. Running her hand over the gold bracelet, Lexa strains her neck searching the now unorganized army for any signs of Klark’s white cloak. “And Anya? I have yet to see her.”

“Has been injured, but I just received a report from Nyko’s _seken_ that she is awake.”

“Will she be okay?” Lexa’s eyes widen with worry, an expression she doesn’t even bother trying to conceal. “What happened?”

“A head injury. It has made her a little nauseous, but like I said, the _seken_ has reassured me she will be okay. However from the reports I’ve been hearing, she received this injury when she was fighting amongst Azgeda’s lines.”

Lexa’s eyebrows crease with slight confusion. Why her general would be in Azgeda’s ranks is beyond her, but such details can be sorted out later. All that matters is Anya is alive.

“I am assuming she has been brought back to camp?”

“Yes.”

“Good, she deserves rest. Also Indra, have you noticed if she has been acting strange?” questions Lexa.

“Perhaps? Although, I have been so busy with battle preparations I did not spend much time with Anya. Should we be concerned?”

“No, no need.” Lexa turns her attention to the construction of the pyres. “I am going to walk down the lines to inspect the army. Once the pyres are built have each clan stack their dead so we can say the final blessing before the celebrations tonight.”

“Of course.”

Lexa walks down the bloody aftermath of the battle. Bodies from both sides lay twisted and dismembered as her warriors begin rummaging through the carnage separating the East from the West. This is the part of battle that makes the burden of leadership feel the heaviest, especially when she sees all the now lifeless faces of the people she once knew. Looking down to inspect the bodies below her, Lexa’s eyes fall on a Trikru warrior whose name had been Aiden. Aiden had worked as a _seken_ to one of Lexa’s own personal guards. He had been a warrior full of promise, one that Lexa grew very fond of watching develop into a talented young warrior. Lexa twists her lips, but those are now memories of yesterday, and today his spirit will be released into the next world. 

Bending to one knee, Lexa unhooks the small Commander’s brooch pinned onto the chest of Aiden’s leathered breastplate. Rubbing the away the blood, Lexa cleans the emblem on her shirt and carefully places the symbol in the palm of her hand. Lexa blinks away tears. The old warrior had already decided Aiden’s fate, but that doesn’t mean she does not feel personally guilty. 

“Was he special to you?” questions a voice from behind. One whose familiar tone brings Lexa much relief. 

“Yes. Everyone of my warriors are special to me,” said Lexa as she curls her fingers around the brooch before slipping it into her pocket. Rising to her feet Lexa turns around to face the familiar voice and instantly her eyes widen at the almost shocking sight of Klark. The all white attire Klark had once sported is now one of deep crimson. Never has Lexa seen a warrior in such a state and even as the Commander, Lexa finds it slightly unsettling. It is like Klark has jumped into a sea of blood. In fact, if it had not been for her blue eyes, Lexa may not have recognized Klark at all. For a warrior to become this bloodstained means they were very exposed at the front lines. A thought that immediately worries Lexa.

“Klark…” Lexa begins still slightly speechless at Klark’s image, but quickly collects herself, “I am glad to see the Old warrior has decided today was not to be our final goodbye.”

Klark smiles as the whites of her teeth starkly contrast the crimson red.

“As am I,” said Klark as she extends out her arm. An action Lexa eagerly reciprocates as the two exchange the grounder’s formal handshake. It is a safe gesture, one that gives both girls the contact they desire without creating suspicions from any observing eyes. “I am also relieved to see my bracelet has given you the same luck it has me.”

“Yes, thank-you. It helped me keep a peace of mind.” Lexa runs her fingers over the piece before slipping it off her wrist, “but it does look like the pyres are almost ready for lighting. I trust I will see you and your clan at the celebrations tonight?”

“Of course.” said Klark as she dips her head in respect at Lexa’s dismissal. 

But just as Lexa is passing Klark, Lexa discretely steps closer and slips the golden band into Klark’s hand. Quietly Lexa whispers, “Although had I known you so willingly choose to expose yourself to danger, I would have spent the entire battle worrying for your safety.”

“Well, luckily for you, your General took care of that.”


	37. Empty Threats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, happy Wednesday. So here is today's chapter. I hadn't realized it had as many POV switches, so I was going to split it up into two. But then thought what the heck, let's get this story out there. As always thanks for reading. LMS

**_KLARK_ **

Just like the arrival festivities, the celebration tonight is alive with overflowing drinks, feasting, and continuous dancing. But this time, the atmosphere is one much lighter as the weight of a looming battle has now turned to one of victory.

As Klark pushes through the crowd the stories of today’s battle swirl excitedly among the warriors. And even though many of these tales have most likely been inflated by the alcohol, it is a time where clan tensions are set aside, and warriors talk freely – regardless of clan allegiances. It is almost refreshing to see and Klark decides that this part of the celebration will most likely be one of her highlights.

“A refill for my courageous _kwin_?”

Klark turns to see Echo holding out a fresh tankard of wine. From the way her eyes are glossed, Klark can tell Echo is deep into the joys of drunkenness. Klark rolls her eyes. Sometimes her sister is too carefree.

“You’re too thoughtful,” said Klark reaching out for the cup, “and perhaps a little too drunk?”

“Klark, come on now! We have just won a great victory and you almost got a hammer to your head but are here to tell the tale. So drink up!” Echo pushes the tankard to Klark’s lips. Rolling her eyes again, Klark takes a generous sip.

“Oh yes, I’m pretty sure you went off to pick some flowers and left me alone to fend off five warriors myself,” teases Klark.

“And by flowers you mean stabbing my spear right into the guts of the enemy!” Echo onehandedly motions a spear thrusting into an invisible enemy as the contents of her drink wildly splash out of her tankard. “It’s not my fault you move so fast on the battlefield. No wonder Ontari and Dem…” Echo catches herself as her face falls into deep sadness.

“I know,” said Klark placing her hand on Echo’s shoulder in a form of comfort. “Even at fifty percent strength you and I worked well together today. It would have made him proud.” 

“But I wasn’t able to watch your back.” Echo’s mood shifts into slight darkness. A sudden change Klark figures is likely fueled by the abundance of alcohol. “Demetri would have fought harder to not be separated from you. Had the Trikru General not been there…”

“Alright, that’s enough melancholy for tonight.” Klark kisses Echo’s cheek as she wraps her arm around Echo’s waist. Squeezing slightly, Klark tries to offer her sister a little reassurance. “Look, you did the best you can, and I am very happy I have you by myside. But you said it yourself, we have just won a great victory! Let’s not spend the evening in sadness. Instead let’s honour his memory and show this Coalition how fun the _bloka_ can really be.”

“Wait, so are you saying you’re _actually_ going to drink?”

“Perhaps I will let loose a bit. I will have a few, but I’m not interested in getting more than a little buzz.”

“Then what are we waiting for?! Actually…” Echo pauses, looking down at her tankard for a moment before chugging the rest of the wine. “Let’s make these drinks count. No more wine, but only Azgeda’s finest vodka for Azgeda’s finest princesses! Come let’s go get a refill.”

* * *

**_ANYA_ **

Anya sits back in her chair as she rubs her temples. The splitting headache she’s had since she woken up has yet to stop throbbing and the music and celebrations are doing nothing but antagonize the pain. She could retreat to her tent but seeing as the celebrations are in front of the Trikru camp it probably wouldn’t make much of a difference. Plus, she has yet to touch base with Lexa and Anya would like to at least get some sort of an official update before retiring for the night. But from the way the clan leaders keep swarming around Lexa for attention, Anya could be sitting here for awhile. Reaching over to one of the freshly filled tankards, Anya decides she might as well allow herself to have one drink.

“General? I am surprised to see you are still awake.”

Anya turns to see Klark supporting her swaying sister. She can tell both have enjoyed their alcohol, but from the way Echo’s eyes are fluttering it is probably time to switch her to water.

“To be honest I am too.”

“Is it alright if we talk to you for a minute?” Klark looks to Echo before shaking her head, “I mean if I talk to you. I think Echo here is lost in her own little world.”

“Yes, of course,” said Anya gesturing to the open bench. Truthfully, Anya finds herself surprised at Klark’s odd request, but she doesn’t show it.

Looking back at Klark, Anya hopes the affects of alcohol are strong enough in Klark, so that Klark won’t notice Anya’s own uncomfortableness. Not because of her splitting headache, but because Anya feels she is staring at a ghost.

“I was told once that when someone saves your life it is proper to say thank-you.” Klark extends her hand towards Anya, “So, thank you General for taking the hit that was meant for me.”

“No need for such pleasantries,” said Anya grasping Klark’s arm. “I am sure any one of your warriors would have done the same.”

“Exactly. Any one of _my_ warriors would have. But you are not one of my warriors, but yet you still risked your life for me when not too long ago I almost took yours. Please do not take this as an offence, but why?”

“Why?”

“Risk it.” Sincerely smiling Klark grabs for another drink, eagerly she takes a sip. “I am very thankful you did. But I just don’t understand why a General would leave her ranks for an Ice princess.”

Anya feels her face flush. Not in anger, but because she feels like she has been somehow caught.

“I believe you are far too important to our future,” said Anya momentarily looking to Lexa whose eyes are not focused on Xavier’s but instead glued to Klark’s side profile. “The _Coalition_ needs you Klark.” 

Before Klark can respond Echo stands from the bench and grabs two full tankards. Looking at her with confusion Klark gently squeezes Echo’s arm, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To find friends!”

“And where are these friends?”

“Over there!” Echo quickly points animatedly over to a crowd of warriors on the other side of the dance floor. Her gesture is so sudden, the momentum sends a wave of alcohol rushing out of the cup and onto an unsuspecting bystander.

“What the hell is your problem?!”

Anya cranes her neck around Echo to see Charles Pike wiping his face dry.

“Oh I am sorry! Here, would you like this drink?” Innocently Echo offers Pike the second glass. Taking it into his hands Anya’s eyes widen with horror when he pours the contents over Echo’s head.

“No, I do not want your filth.”

“Hey! Now what is your problem.” With great force Echo shoves her hands into Pike’s chest. An action that causes both Anya and Klark to quickly rise to their feet. Anya bites her lip. Pike is a hot head and when mixed with alcohol, there is no telling what he will do.

“My problem? My problem is that you dam grounders think you can do whatever you want!”

“It was just an accident,” Klark intercedes stepping closer to the two in an attempt to ease the tension. “She is just drunk. Don’t waste your time on her. She will forget this by morning.”

“She might, but I won’t!” In his fury Pike reaches to his belt and pulls out a small gun and points it right to Echo’s head. His voice is loud enough that the nearby discussion ceases and all eyes watch the tense exchange. Everyone witnessed the Skaikru weapons today and from the hesitation, it is clear no on wants to get caught up in whatever is going on.

* * *

**_LEXA_ **

“Yes, I will see that such arrangements are ma-”

“She might, but I won’t!” Pike's words stop Lexa mid speech. Turning her attention back to Klark, Lexa is horrified to see Pike’s weapon drawn at Echo’s head.

“Put it down Pike,” said Anya inching slightly closer. “You do not want to do something you will regret.”

“She’s right. Lower your weapon from Echo’s head and we can talk this out.” Klark slowly moves, grabbing the hem of Echo’s shirt as if making sure her drunk sister is not going to try anything stupid. “You’re allowed to feel upset, but tonight is about celebrating. Let’s not ruin our victory by doing something irreversible.”

“Your victory? It was us who put every last western grounder into the dirt!”

“Yes, and the Coalition thanks you for that.” Klark moves her hand to the back of Echo’s neck and cautiously pulls her sister back down into a sitting position.

“Stop fucking moving!”

When Pike’s gun points at Klark’s head, Lexa cannot help but feel her knees begin to weaken. She is too far away to do anything about this altercation. All Lexa can do is hope that her rapidly beating heart does not break out from her chest.

Looking to Anya for any kind of support, Lexa’s anxiety heightens. Anya’s face is not the calmness she needs, rather her face has fell from a look of impassiveness into a pained like despair. 

“Okay.” Klark lifts her hands in surrender, “If you want to shoot me than that’s fine. But please, let my sister be.”

Lexa can feel warriors’ eyes fall on Klark then to Pike then back onto their Commander, as if waiting to see what the orders will be. But no such orders come. At Klark’s sacrificing words Lexa’s throat has turned into a thick knot. She tries to swallow but can’t. Even though she is too far away, she knows she should say something, anything! But when Lexa tries to call out a command nothing comes out. Instead she has become uncharacteristically paralyzed with fear at the thought of watching Klark die before her. Worse yet, the commotion has now started to collect quite the audience. By the way the Ice Nation warriors are grabbing for their weapons if this tension doesn’t cease a civil war could break out at any moment.

“I should shoot you, you grounder whore!” Pike waves his weapon closer to Klark and instantly the sound of swords unsheathing can be heard over the distant music. Ever so slightly Klark gestures to her warriors to ease. But it does little to calm their stance as Pike leans in to whisper something in Klark’s ear. From the way Klark’s spine becomes rigid, Lexa can only presume his words are none other than poison.

“Do you understand what I said you filthy ice bitch?” continues Pike in a tone everyone can hear again, “I’ll do it again. Never will I hesitate to take yo-”

“Drop the weapon Pike.” Marcus’ voice booms with authority. Lexa had been so focused on Klark, she never even noticed Marcus walk up and place a gun to Pike’s head. “Now is not the time.”

At Marcus’ words Pike’s weapon drops a little and the Skaikru take advantage the loss of focus. Quickly a group of Skai guards jump to disarm him, bringing Pike swiftly to the ground.

“All of you, take Pike to his room. Inform the Chancellor of his actions. If Pike is lucky Abby will kill him before I can.”

The strength in Lexa’s knees returns and she snaps out of her paralysis. The warriors around still have their weapons drawn waiting for any kind of orders.

“Stand down! All of you!” Lexa breaks the silence as she walks towards Klark, Echo, and Anya. “If I see or hear of anymore altercations I will personally see to the punishment of the guilty! We have won one war today, let us not fight another. Now all of you disburse!” At her command, the warriors hesitantly return to their conversations.

“Let’s go Echo,” said Klark pulling Echo to her feet. “I think you can agree we both had enough excitement for today. Let’s get to bed.”

“Klark wait!” Lexa bites her tongue. From Anya’s warning look, it appears her voice sounded a little too Lexa and not enough Commander. Clearing her throat to recompose herself Lexa continues, “Klark, we have yet debriefed about the battle and Azgeda’s losses. Should we reschedule our conversation for another evening?”

Pinching her nails into her palm, Lexa nervously waits for Klark’s response. It is true, Lexa wants to discuss today’s battle but there is also another meaning behind her request. One that she hopes a furious Klark will pick up on.

“Tonight, will be fine. I just have a few things to take care of first.” Klark pulls Echo closer as she wraps her arm protectively around her sister. “Do not worry about coming to me Commander, I will meet you at your tent before you retire for the night. Goodnight General Anya, and thanks again.”

Once the two sisters get lost in the crowd, Lexa takes a seat on the bench next to Anya.

“Pike is an issue, that must be dealt with.”

“I couldn’t agree more Commander.”

“If he would have pulled that trigger…” Lexa stops when Anya’s hand softly squeezes her thigh.

“But he didn’t. Let’s not let him steal our victory tonight. You have won Commander; your people are safe.” Anya gestures out towards the crowd, “Look how happy they are.”

“You’re right. Thank you for realigning my focus. So, are you feeling better?” questions Lexa, shifting the conversation in a different direction.

“No. My head is still pounding, but Nyko says I will live.”

“Good.” Lexa takes a sip from what she presumes to be Klark’s leftover drink. “So, what were you doing in Azgeda’s formation anyways?”

“Protecting Klark.”

“Oh?” Lexa peaks with curiosity. She cannot decide if the idea of Anya protecting Klark is more perplexing or if it's the slight look of guilt Anya’s face possesses. “Yet you seem slightly sheepish about that. Are you embarrassed that you got injured? Or is it the fact you left the Trikru lines.”

“Neither.”

“Neither?”

“Yes neither. I would do the same thing again without hesitation. When I told you I feel Klark is integral to our future I meant it. However, I must say it was a challenge to watch out for her. She and Echo do like to position themselves right in the thick of things.”

“Yes, I saw the aftermath,” said Lexa replaying the image of a bloodstained Klark, “I was surprised too. Especially with Klark’s importance, I never thought Nia would allow her heir to expose herself like that.”

“Maybe Nia doesn’t know?”

“Perhaps, but I get a sense Nia is so caught up in Azgeda’s prophecy any logical thoughts that were once there are slipping away.” Lexa takes another sip, “Did you not say you had something to tell me?”

“Right.” Anya runs her hands through her hair. An action she only does when she is nervous, “But I think it can wait until tomorrow when my head doesn’t feel like it's splitting into two. I promise I will come see you at first light. But if it is alright, I think I might retire for the night.”

“Of course. Goodnight Anya.”

“Good night Commander.”

“And Anya?” Lexa grabs Anya’s wrist, pulling her General close enough to whisper, “Thanks.”

“For?”

“Well for not dying, but also for sacrificing yourself for something I care so deeply about.”

“I want you to know I had meant it when I once promised I would protect _her_ with my life. I won’t be failing you twice.” 

Lexa creases her brows with confusion, the alcohol must be getting to her already. As she replays Anya’s words, Lexa pushes the tankard out of her own reach. Either Anya’s injury has caused her to become confused or this Ice nation vodka is starting to distort her hearing.

* * *

**_KLARK_ **

_“I found great pleasure killing your kind before, you dam Ice kwin. The way that village fell under my power excited me. You need to understand who is in authority here. One wrong move and I swear to your grounder spirits that I will blow you sister’s fucking brains out so fast you will have no time to react.”_

Pike’s icy words replay themselves in Klark’s mind as a shiver races down her spine. Looking back at her bed, she watches as Echo’s chest rises peacefully in her deep sleep. Truthfully, Pike’s gun didn’t scare her. But what did, was the thought that if Pike would pull the trigger Echo would be taken away from her forever. Even now this thought brings unwanted tears. Which is why Klark has decided to do something about it. 

Klark runs her hands over her freshly washed face and hair. The dye took many washes to remove but now her locks are closer to her natural gold rather than the usual artificial red. Typically when her face is this clean it is time for bed, but not tonight. Klark needs to be able to slip through the camps undetected and her own identity will serve as the perfect disguise. Klark smirks. For once she is genuinely grateful Nia has forced her to conceal her identity. 

“My _kwin_?”

“In here Hondo.” Klark turns her back towards the entrance of her private quarters. Not even Hondo can see what she looks like without her mask. “Did you find what I asked for?”

“Yes. I apologize I am a little late, but it took me longer than I thought. But I think these you two outfits will fit well.”

“Thank you, Hondo. Please set them on the bed.” Klark points to her bed, still not turning to face Hondo. “After tonight’s excitement, Echo will be staying with me tonight. Please inform Beorn that I am retiring for the evening and under no circumstances should I be disturbed until morning.”

“Yes, my kwin”

Once Hondo leaves, Klark inspects the two outfits. They look about her size, possibly a little too big, but they will do the trick. Grabbing a tote, Klark slips the Trikru uniform into the bag and quickly begins slipping on the other outfit. The clothing is strange and she struggles at first to fasten all the buttons and zippers. After a few more awkward attempts she finds herself ready to go.

Walking over to her mirror, Klark takes one last look at her reflection. Running her hand over the fabric she inspects the blue jacket and v-neck shirt.

“The Skaikru look suits. I look as if I have always belonged to the people of the Skai,” said Klark quietly to herself. After one more look, Klark slips a dagger into her belt, grabs the tote, and sneaks quietly through the secret flap at the back of her tent.

* * *

At first Klark had been nervous to openly walk through the Skaikru camp, but so far no one has even really paid any attention to her. Which is a good thing as she needs to remain relatively discrete if she is to be successful.

When Klark rounds the corner, there is a small group of men and woman talking by the campfire. Most look quite drunk so Klark figures this is the perfect group to get her information from.

“Excuse me.” Klark slightly disguises her voice into a more higher pitch than usual. There is a good chance these warriors have no idea what she sounds like, but she is not taking any chances. “I am sorry to interrupt, but I think all the alcohol has left me a little disorientated. I am hoping someone could help me with directions.”

“Sure, what’s up?” questions an older looking man. 

“I was supposed to drop this off at Pike’s tent, but I have forgotten where it is. That Azgedian vodka is sure something else.”

The man laughs, “Isn’t it? And I thought Montey’s moonshine was potent, but that stuff is on another whole level! But yah, Pike’s tent is all the way down this row, then two to the right.”

“Great thanks, enjoy your night.” Klark slips away before anymore questions are asked. Internally cringing at her attempt at a fake voice.

Counting the tents she finally gets to the second one on the right. She is surprised to find that it is unguarded, especially after Pike’s scene. But then again, this works better in her favour. Taking a breath, she quietly slips in.

The inside of the tent is much darker than she thought it would be, but from the soft snores Klark can tell Pike is sound asleep.

“ _Bang_!” Klark’s shins hit something hard and the unexpected obstacle sends her crashing onto the floor. Klark rolls her eyes, so much for being quiet.

“Hello?” questions Pike in a disorientated tone, “is someone there?”

Klark quietly controls her breaths as she reaches into her tote. The fall startled even herself and if she is to do this right, Pike can’t be the first to notice her.

“If this is some sort of joke you guys, I will kill you myself,” said Pike swinging his feet over the bed. His socked feet hit the ground inches from Klark’s face. “I am not going to ask again, is someone there?”

Now that Klark’s eyes have somewhat adjusted to the darkness, she quickly jumps to her feet. Taking the leather rope, she wraps it firmly around Pike’s neck. Pulling the chords tight she whispers, “If you wish to see the light of day you will not move or say a word unless I ask you a question. Do you understand me?”

“Mhmm”

“Good.” Klark pulls the cords tighter. Placing her dagger to the base of Pike’s throat, she hopes this gives emphasis to her threat. “I have been waiting five years for this moment and you know what?” Klark doesn’t wait for him to answer, “I feel nothing but disappointment and that perplexes me Pike. Because as far back as I can remember I have wanted nothing more than to avenge what you have done to Ironoak.”

Pike’s breathing stills at Klark’s words, but he continues to not dare move a muscle as Klark resumes her threats.

“However, since leaving my borders I have learnt that everything I have thought to be true seems to be nothing more than lies. Maybe what I am really trying so say is I cannot decide if my disappointment stems from the fact Ironoak may not be to me what I once thought it was. Or seeing how you’re such a waste of skin killing you will achieve me nothing. But then again, you did threaten my sister today. So if anything, your death will avenge her assault.”

“ _Whack_!” A sudden impact hits Klark upside the head. It is a force that is swift enough to send Klark falling back to the dirt. Quickly she jumps back to her feet. Drawing her dagger she readies to strike. But before she can line up Pike’s silhouette her eyes are blinded by a sudden beam of light.

“I don’t believe my eyes.” Pike’s voice trembles as the flashlight drops to the ground. Sending its light beam onto the back wall of the tent. Illuminated by the light, the expression on Pike’s face has lost its usual hardness and it is as if he is seeing a ghost, “Griffin?”

Klark, equally confused at the sudden change in demeanour, takes a step back to assess this strange scene, “I do not know who this Griffin is you speak of, but I am Klark kom Azgeda and your pathetic fight is over.”

“We…” Pike pauses as if his tongue itself has frozen, “…laid you into the ground. This can’t be possible?”

Klark impatiently draws her dagger back. Whatever games this Skaikru is playing is getting on her nerves and she has had enough. 

“Do not do this, this is not _your_ way Cl-” Pike’s words stop mid speech as Klark’s dagger embeds itself deep into his eye socket. His towering frame crashes to the ground.

Without much feeling, Klark looks down at Pike’s lifeless body. For a moment she finds herself almost mesmerized by how the strange Skaikru light glimmers off the deep crimson spilling onto the ground.

“No one threatens my family.” Klark spits onto the corpse. When people are at the mercy of death Klark has found her victims tend to say strangest things. Pike had no idea what _her_ ways are. She is the winter wolf, a natural killer, Nia’s heir; savagery is and will always be Azgeda’s way.

Klark rests her foot on Pike’s neck. With slight pressure she creates enough leverage to remove the dagger from the lifeless skull. Taking off her jacket, she wipes blood and brain matter off the blade before discarding the now stained leather jacket next to the body. Next, she removes her pants and shirt before slipping into the Trikru uniform. Unlike the Skaikru outfit, this one fits a little more loosely, but it will do.

Klark pulls out a container of oil from her tote. Generously she douses liquid onto Pike as she silently reflects on their conversation. What she had told Pike before his death is true. The inconsistencies Klark has picked up on lately have planted seeds of doubt well into Klark’s mind. Roots growing deeper by the day as Nia’s lies have begun to unravel. An affect Klark did not realize the extent of. Until moments ago, when Pike’s life was in her hands and the lust for _jus drein jus daun_ fizzled into nothing but disappointment.

The sudden burst of fire meets the end of the match when Klark strikes it against the starter strip. Tossing the match towards the corpse, the oil ignites into flames. She takes a moment to watch as the body begins to melt under the heat and the aroma of burning flesh pollutes the tent. If anything, this was not for herself but for Echo and Ironoak – even if they aren’t the family Klark has always thought them to be.

Slipping out of the tent, Klark hugs the shadows as she pulls the Trikru cloak over her head. Promptly she begins weaving through the Skaikru’s tents. Dealing with Pike has taken much longer than Klark has wanted so she hopes her next visit isn’t already fast asleep.

“Fire!” a distant cry calls, “Pike’s tent is on fire! Quick get the water!” At those words Klark cannot help but smirk as the sweet taste of revenge lingers in her mouth.

* * *

**_LEXA_ **

Lexa blows out the last candle and immediately the inside of her tent becomes pitch black. Pulling the furs around her, she sighs in slight disappointment. She hoped Klark would come tonight, but after waiting for hours, her eyelids have become nothing but heavy. In fact, it won’t be long until the sun will rise in the horizon and Lexa knows she needs to get some sleep. Tomorrow the journey home begins and the Commander will have to make many formal farewells. Which is probably why Klark did not show, as Klark most likely had some other duties to tend to. Which of course is understandable, but also very disappointing. Shutting her eyes, Lexa quickly falls into a deep sleep.

\---

The sound of movement jolts Lexa awake. Reaching under her pillow she grabs her dagger and slashes into the shadows. When her attack is blocked by a firm grip on her wrist, Lexa’s eyes widen as the knife is stopped from stabbing deep into the intruder.

“Lexa?” The intruder's hesitant voice sends a wave of guilt rushing over her.

“Klark?! What are you thinking?! I could have killed you! Why didn’t you call for me?”

“I did. Many times, but you remained sleeping. So I thought I would just come and touch your shoulder.” Klark laughs quietly, “Which now I see was a mistake.”

“I’m sorry.” For once Lexa is grateful her tent is dark enough to conceal her embarrassment.

“No need, I probably would have done the same. But how about I let you sleep; I will come see you in the morning.”

“Don’t leave me.” Not only do the words fly out faster than Lexa’s thoughts can process, but they also sounded much more vulnerable than she would usually want. But it’s true, Lexa doesn’t want to sleep alone tonight. Even if it means risking the consequences of getting caught sharing a bed with the Ice Nation’s heir.

“You want me to stay?” From the slight shock in Klark’s voice, Lexa can tell Klark is surprised at the request. 

“Yes. I know it is a great risk, one that I understand if you cannot take. But I cannot bear the thought that soon we will be almost a world apa-”

Lexa is stopped mid speech when Klark’s lips meet hers. Like the times before, the contact sends an array of butterflies twisting throughout Lexa's stomach. Carefully Klark discards the knife from Lexa’s hand as Lexa finds herself leaning in for more. This meeting had been intended to discuss business, but that will be tomorrow’s problem. Tonight Lexa has something else on her mind. Running her hand on Klark’s cheek, Lexa immediately freezes.

“Your face? It’s completely free of paint.”

Once again Klark laughs, “How do you think I snuck out of my camp undetected?” Klark presses her lips back to Lexa’s. “And it will make for the perfect disguise as I sneak out of here tomorrow morning.”

“Can I see you?”

“You will, but first there is far more important things to do,” said Klark as she tosses her boots to the side and climbs onto the large bedframe. Gently Klark guides Lexa back down onto the mattress and without hesitation Klark begins to lay soft, electric like kisses into Lexa’s neck.

“Is this okay?” whispers Klark as her fingers find the tie to Lexa’s breast bindings.

“Mhmm.” Lexa finds herself not able to speak. It is as if Klark’s touch has taken her voice away. The night’s cool air hits Lexa’s exposed chest as the sound of both Lexa and Klark’s layers being discarded can be heard over Lexa’s shaky breaths.

The warmth of Klark’s bare body sends Lexa’s heart wildly slamming against her chest. Drawing in a shaky inhale, Lexa’s hand digs into the furs as Klark continues the soft, teasing kisses down her neck and past her collarbone. Lexa’s back arches in response to the tender caressing of her breasts, until she cannot take it anymore. With a sudden movement, Lexa tries to flip Klark onto her back to take charge. But is slightly surprised when Klark gently pushes her back down onto the mattress.

“You might be Commander, but tonight titles mean nothing,” said Klark nibbling slightly at Lexa’s ear. Lexa is about to protest, but once again the words escape her when Klark resumes the trail of kisses on her body. This time however, Klark doesn’t stop at Lexa’s breasts but continues down Lexa’s toned stomach until reaching her hip bone.

Nails dig into the mattress as soft suckles turn into playful tongue swirls along the inside of Lexa’s pelvis. The tingling feeling the velvet like tongue creates is almost enough to send Lexa over the edge. And when it is clear Lexa cannot take the torment any longer Klark moves to her target. Immediately, Lexa’s eyes flutter as a wave of pleasure races down to her curled toes. Biting her own hand, Lexa attempts to suppress her moans as the sound she is about to make is no where near discrete enough for the thin walls of this tent.

\----

From the brightness of her room, Lexa knows she has well overslept. Reaching over she feels nothing but a cold, empty spot. Meaning that Klark has left hours ago. At the thought of Klark, Lexa’s stomach twists with excitement, but when Lexa recalls her dream her stomach lines itself heavy with guilt.

Last night Lexa and Klark shared something she has only felt once before. And when Klark had fallen asleep in Lexa’s arms the wholeness Lexa felt confirmed that Klark is a true _keryon soujona._ It was in that moment Lexa knew she could have the chance to finally move on from her past love. That was until her dreams decided otherwise.

The dream felt so real Lexa can barely believe it was only a dream. Especially since it had taken place in this exact tent, in this exact bed:

A hand trailed down Lexa’s spine outlining her tattoos, _“I should head back if I am to sneak past our guards.”_ It was Klark’s voice. 

_“Sssh. Stay with me a little longer. I command it.”_

_“Remember what I said last night about titles?”_

_“Yes, yes very well. Just promise me this will not be your last time in my bed.”_

_“I promise. Goodbye Lexa, I love you.”_

_“I love you Klark,”_ With sleepy eyes Lexa turned towards Klark, but instead of Azgeda’s heir she found Clarke. _Her_ Clarke.

As the memory of the dream ends, Lexa wipes away the tears staining her face. Lexa thought she was moving on, but her dream has proven otherwise. It’s not fair to Klark if the hold of Clarke is still so strong that even Lexa’s dreams can’t let Clarke go. Klark deserves better than someone who is half hearted.

“Lexa?”

Quickly Lexa grabs a blanket wrapping up her exposed chest, “I’m here Anya.”

“What are you still doing in be…” Anya’s voice trails off when she sees Lexa’s puffy eyes. “Lexa what’s wrong.”

“I’m fine. Only tired.” A lie and from the look on Anya’s face, she knows it too. Lexa slings her legs over the bed and reaches for her robe. “What do you have to report?”

“A few things. Would you care for the bad news or the worse news first?”

“Bad.”

“There was a fire last night in the Skaikru camp. Pike is dead.”

“Oh? I’m assuming it was foul play.”

“Yes, from Marcus’ suspicions anyways, but no one can confirm as apparently all evidence has turned to ash. But I think we all know who was responsible.”

Lexa bites her cheek, “Azgeda.”

“Yes. But Marcus and Abby have agreed to not push the issue further. Pike’s attitude has been nothing but a problem for them, so at least we won’t need to worry about a civil war anytime soon.” Anya shakes her head, “Pike was a fool to think his actions would go unanswered. Threatening both of Azgeda’s royals, I’m not sure what he really expected to happen.”

“Once a fool, always a fool. The worse news?”

Anya draws in a shaky breath, “We need to take about Klark.”

Lexa puts down her glass. Guiltily she looks to Anya, “Look I can explain. It was only one night.”

Lexa flushes with heat at last night’s memory. From the confused look Anya flashes, Lexa is not sure they are talking about the same thing.

“Wait, you screwed the Ice princess?”

“ _Slept_ with, yes.”

“Lexa…” Anya rubs her temples as if trying to process her thoughts. “I have realized that this relationship is inevitable, so it is something I have come to terms with. But we will need to think this through. We cannot forget how dangerous this is.”

“I know. But you do not need to worry, it is not going to happen again.” Lexa presses her lips together at the painful thought. It is not what Lexa wants, but it is only fair to Klark.

“What? I don’t understand. You said she was your _keryon soujona._ ”

Lexa runs her fingers through her hair. Shifting her stance slightly, she feels the uncomfortable weight of vulnerability weigh down on her.

“Last night was like nothing I have experienced before, but I had a dream that Klark was laying in my bed. And when I turned to say goodbye it wasn’t Azgeda’s princess but staring back at me was the face of _my_ favourite princess,” said Lexa blinking away more tears. “ _Keryon soujona_ or not, I do not think I will ever be over Clarke. Something that is not fair to Klark, so I’ve decided I cannot continue to pursue this relationship.”

“Lexa?”

“Yes.”

Anya’s face scrunches as if full of slight distress. Sighing she rests a hand on Lexa’s shoulder, “It’s time to talk Lexa. And I think it’s best if you sit down.”


	38. Separating Facts from Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klark experiences Polis for the first time. While Lexa digests the weight of Anya's secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, I hope you all are having a great weekend so far. Here's two smaller chapters today. As always, thanks for reading and see you Wednesday x.

**_ANYA_ **

“Lexa?” Anya kneels as she snaps her fingers in front of Lexa’s pale and stone like face. “Lexa can you say something, anything?!”

Anya firmly pats the side of Lexa’s cheek, but there’s no response. In fact, since Anya broke the truth about Clarke, Lexa has remained nothing more than a statue – and that was over an hour ago.

“Lexa, look. I know this is incredibly shocking. Truthfully, I passed out when I learned the news. But the Coalition needs the Commander's presence today to say the final farewell. Then I promise I will cover for you the whole way back to Polish. Indra and I will come up with some story as you take time to digest this news, I promise yo-” Anya's words stop dead in their tracks as Lexa projectiles a gush of vomit down Anya’s shirt. 

“I think I need to lay down.”

With wobbling legs Lexa stands from the sofa. As she gets to the edge of her bed, another wave of vomit spews to the ground.

“What of the closing ceremony?” Anya cringes at her lack of sensitivity, but she knows as Commander, Lexa must say the final blessing. Regardless of how Lexa herself is feeling. “The clans still need to pack up, which I suspect will take at least five hours. Will you be able to make the dismissal then?”

“Yes. The Commander will be ready.”

Anya bites the corner of her lip as walks to the side of Lexa’s bed. Maybe it would have been wiser if she had waited until after the dismissal? Anya sighs, what's done it done. Pulling the furs around Lexa’s statue like frame she places a small kiss on Lexa’s forehead. Running her hands through Lexa’s hair, Anya attempts to provide a reassurance, “I know this whole situation is messy, but we will figure this out. I promise.”

As Anya leaves, she looks back towards Lexa whose stare is fixated on the roof of the tent. If Lexa can pull through everything she has already experienced, she will pull through this. She is strong. Anya reassures herself once more before slipping out of Lexa’s tent.

\---

Once Anya leaves something inside Lexa breaks. Grabbing her pillow, Lexa releases a muffled scream into the material. The spirits are cruel. Clarke may be alive, but for the rest of Lexa’s life Clarke will always remain just out of her reach. The Ice Nation has taken Clarke away once and now they have done it again. This time however, not in the form of a captive but as Azgeda’s soon to be crowned Queen. 

* * *

**_KLARK_ **

_“I wish to see the Commander!”_

_“Like we told you last night and every other night for the past week, the Commander is not granting anyone an audience.”_

_“Please. Can you at least tell her it’s kwin Klark?”_

_“I did last night. The Commander is not changing her mind. I’m sorry Ice kwin, but the Commander’s orders are the Commander’s orders._

_“Well fuck you!”_ Klark spat next to his boots. Slipping off her gold bracelet she threw it with all her might at the burly guard. _“Well if she refuses to see me at least give her this. Tell her this is the last time I will ever request an audience again. Azgeda has obviously offended her so be sure to mentioned Azgeda will not overstay its welcome in Polis. In fact, my entire army has been ordered to keep marching North, while I and a few others stay for a while. So as least the Commander doesn’t need to worry about being burdened with any dam hospitality!”_

Klark blinks back tears as she replays last night’s conversation. It is true, ever since Klark had shared a bed with Lexa, Lexa has refused to see her. Rejection that has cut Klark like a deep wound. She keeps replaying that night over and over, did she do something to offend Lexa? Did Lexa not like the pleasure Klark gave her? So many thoughts swirl around Klark’s mind that Klark cannot help but feel incredibly embarrassed and insecure. Which is why Klark has wanted to address whatever she did so Lexa can either give Klark the closure she needs or the chance to fix it.

But of course, Lexa has been a master at avoiding Klark. In fact, as they journey to Polis, Azgeda has been ordered to remain at the back. The reason was apparently due to their army's large size. At least that was what Klark was told, but Klark is no fool. Being at the back means Klark cannot easily confront Lexa. And even if Klark would lose her mind and gallop to the front of the lines, Lexa would not be easily confrontable. Apparently Klark’s scouts have reported that the Commander rides in the front surrounded by a group of warriors in such a tight formation, Klark would not even be able to get to her anyways.

“Klark? I said do you see Polis on the horizon?!” said Echo interrupting Klark’s thoughts. “The city looks absolutely breathtaking!”

Klark looks to the horizon, it does look magnificent. But its landscape brings nothing but a lingering sadness, “Yes, it's great.”

Echo frowns at Klark’s apparent melancholy, “What’s wrong Klark?”

“Nothing, I am just tired.”

“Tired hey? We are all still high off the victory of battle, but you are going to try and convince me you’ve just been tired for over a week?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? That’s all I’m going to get.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I won’t push.” Echo lifts her hands in surrender, “but when you are ready to share whatever has created this dark cloud around you, I will be ready to listen.”

“Thanks.”

\---

“Well this is where we part,” said Klark to Beorn as she looks back to the gates of Polis. “Thank you General for everything, I trust you will get my army home safety?” 

“Of course, my _kwin_. Please do not be offended, but I have instructed thirty of my best warriors to remain with you and princess Echo. I know you can handle yourself in the city, but it is the ride home I worry for. Enjoy your time in Polis Klark. I promise the city is like nothing you’ve seen before.”

“I will do my best. And Beron?”

“Yes my _Kwin?”_

“Please tell my mother everything will continue as planned. I will send word when I am returning to Azgeda with the item she has requested. May the Old Warrior guide your path, goodbye my friend.”

“Same to you. Goodbye Klark.” Beorn turns his horse and thrusts his spear into the air, “Forward!”

A command that pushes the massive army towards the North. As Klark watches her army begin to disappear into the bush, Klark wishes she were going with them.

* * *

**_ANYA – one week later_ **

Nervously Anya cracks her knuckles before slipping out to Lexa’s balcony. Since returning to Polis, Lexa has yet to leave her room and Indra and Anya have assured the leaders that the Commander is taking some personal time to recharge. An excuse all leaders, well for the exception of Klark, have bought.

Plus, many have kept themselves entertained by their Ambassadors anyways, so truthfully Lexa’s presence is not necessarily missed. But Anya knows Lexa cannot stay on this balcony hiding from the truth forever. But if there is anything positive, at least Lexa has not restored to drowning her feelings in alcohol. And that is something Anya feels very relieved about. 

“Lexa?” Anya hesitantly steps out onto the sunny balcony, “would you care for your daily report?”

“Yes.” Lexa’s tone is short and clipped, but Anya knows it is because she is trying to hold back unwanted emotion.

“The Ambassadors have been doing their due diligence and are entertaining their clan leaders. To the Polis merchants anyways this has been well received as a few leaders have spent a great amount of money at the markets.”

“Good.”

Anya walks over to the edge of the balcony to look down at the streets below. Most are buzzing with activity as the busyness of trading and shopping are at Polis’ peak hours. Following the crowd Anya’s eyes fall on the group of Ice Nation warriors protectively surrounding their two royals.

Anya bites the corner of her lip before cautiously addressing Lexa, “Can I speak freely?”

“Yes.”

“Lexa…” Anya pauses as she tries to choose her next words wisely. “We have been back in Polis for a week now and you know the leaders won’t be staying much longer. If you need to deal with any conversations, I advise you to do it before it’s too late.” Anya looks back to Lexa whose eyes are becoming glossy with tears. A sign that Lexa is understanding what Anya is trying to say. Anya decides to continue, but this time a little more directly, “Klark may be Azgeda’s wolf, but deep down she is still our Clarke.”

Anya reaches out and takes hold of Lexa’s hand. Gently Anya’s fingers trace the gold band securely wrapped around Lexa’s wrist.

“Remember Lexa, it’s okay that you have fallen in love with both Clarke and Clarke as Klark. There should be no guilt because regardless of who Clarke has become, she is and will forever be your _keryon soujona._ I know you probably feel like your life is in shambles right now, but I assure you she won’t be in Polis for much longer. From my conversations with Klark, your disappearance has wounded her deeply. If Klark returns home without any interaction from you, Klark’s hurt might be strong enough to keep her in Azgeda forever.” Anya squeezes Lexa’s hand as she leans in to press a soft kiss on Lexa’s salty, wet cheek. “You love her so deeply; don’t let her slip through your fingers especially when you have been given the chance to hold _her_ once again.”

* * *

**_KLARK_ **

“This one is amazing!” said Echo as she shoves a piece of chocolate right into Klark’s mouth. The dark square is exceptionally creamy as notes of hazelnut tingle on Klark’s tongue.

“Yes, it is,” said Klark pausing as she swallows the mouthful. “How about this one?” Klark points towards a two-toned chocolate. 

“Ah yes, this one is a good choice _kwin_ Klark.” The chocolatier reaches into the case to hand Klark over a sample. From the pride in his eyes, there is no doubt he is pleased that his shop has received such attention from those of such importance. “This is one I call cookies and cream. I think you will like it just as much.”

Klark takes the chocolate and just like the one Echo shared with her, the square is exceptionally creamy with just the right amount of crunch.

“This is exceptional. You should be very proud of your work,” praises Klark as the man puffs his chest out even more. “If possible, I would like to take all of them.”

“All?” The man’s eyes widen at Klark’s request.

“Yes, all.” Klark turns, gesturing for Hondo, “This is Hondo. Please give him the chocolates once boxed. Whatever the price is he will pay it.”

“It will be done at once!” said the chocolatier as he quickly begins to box up Klark’s large order.

“If you keep eating samples, I am really going to kick your butt next time we spar,” said Klark as she teases a punch into Echo’s arm. “Come let’s go see what else we can buy. I would like to at least pay a visit to the blacksmith and perhaps the tailor.”

“mhmm.” Echo’s response is barely audible from the amount of chocolate overfilling her mouth.

Once outside, they rejoin the herd of warriors and continue down the street. They must be making quite the scene as Klark has noticed many stares from Polis’ citizens. Which doesn’t surprise Klark seeing as she and Echo are surrounded by an almost embarrassing number of escorts. She had tried to reason with them this morning, but all begged Klark to allow them to accompany them for the additional protection.

“Hold up.” Klark signals to the large party. “Echo and I are going to go to the store over there, we will be back soon. I promise.” All appear hesitant at the orders, but of course not one dares to question their _kwin’s_ command. Which relieves Klark, as she has wanted to get Echo alone, but has yet had the chance due to her warriors’ overprotectiveness.

“So, your protection detail is slightly overkill.” Echo laughs, “Beorn must have threatened to throw them in the bear pits if even a red hair on your head is touched.”

Klark rolls her eyes, “Yes, it is almost embarrassing.”

“You know you could command them away.”

“Yes. But look how nervous they look being separated from us.” Klark discretely points back to her warriors. “For their sake I will allow it. I would hate for them to get in trouble, so I will sacrifice my pride and allow for this embarrassment.”

“I would probably do the same. But on another note, are you going to finally tell me what’s wrong with you Klark? You’re trying, but I still sense that dark cloud following you wherever you go.”

Klark scrunches her eyebrows in Echo’s sudden shift in conversation. But if anything, this week has showed Klark there is no sense in hiding the details from someone who cares for Klark the most.

“Well…” Klark begins but pauses momentarily to adjust her blue sash. She wants to talk freely with Echo but knows that she cannot share too much information – yet anyways. “I had a falling out with someone. I feel so angry because I am not sure what I did. But seeing as we are returning to Azegeda tomorrow I think I’ve finally decided to say screw it and let everything go.”

“Oh? Well from the pain in your eyes it doesn’t seem like you’ve let it go.”

“Well maybe you’re right, but if someone doesn’t want you back then there is nothing you can do about it right?” Klark shrugs as she turns away from Echo. Momentarily to hide the sudden onset of building tears.

Grabbing Klark’s wrist, Echo pulls Klark back to face her, “Wait, you never told me you have found someone?”

“ _Had_. Had found.”

“What do you mean?”

“This person has made it clear they do not want me anymore. But as much as the rejection hurts, I feel it is probably for the best anyways. We could have never lived a normal life. It would have been too complicated, so I’ve decided everything will be put to rest by tomorrow.”

“Do you need me to kill them?” Echo’s tease catches Klark off-guard, making her posture incredibly rigid. A change Echo picks up on, “Kidding. If you wanted it done, you’re more than capable of doing it yourself or at least order it to be done. But on that, can I ask you a question Klark?”

“Yes, but if it has anything to do with my failed love interest, do not even bother. I’ve vowed to never talk about it again.”

“No, it’s something else. Was it you?”

Klark knows what Echo is asking, but of course due to potentially listening ears Echo has been wise to keep her question vague.

“Yes.”

“I knew it!” Echo rolls her eyes, “That was incredible risky you know. I do not even want to know how you pulled it off. I am pretty sure Beorn would have tied you up if he knew you were going to be sneaking around other clan’s camps. What made you do it?”

“I’ve always wanted to. But truthfully it was for you. No one threatens your life and doesn’t answer for it.” Klark smiles warmly at Echo, but soon Klark feels her face fall into a more serious expression. “Echo?”

“Yes.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Well that’s probably the stupidest question I’ve ever heard. What do you think?”

Klark runs her hand nervously through her hair, “I am being serious, will you always stand behind me, no matter what happens? I need you to promise me that whatever happens in the next few days that I can count on you.”

“Klark? Is something wrong? You’re kind of intense right now. If this has to do with what you did back in the Glowing Forest, you have my word. Your secret is safe with me.”

“No, I will explain everything to you soon. I just need to know if I can trust you.”

“Yes.” Echo does not dare to joke as Klark is nothing but serious. “Even if it means I must die for you Klark.”

“Good. That’s all I needed to hear.”


	39. Two Can Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klark receives a visit from an unexpected guest as she decides what to do about Nia's task.

**_KLARK_ **

Klark sets out the last of her purchases on her desk. Stepping back, she admires her new items. Beorn had been right, Polis is like nothing Klark has ever experienced. From the people, to the amazing food, to the vast amounts of merchant shops. It has been amazing and Klark is sad to see this venture south come to an end. But then there’s Lexa, Klark sighs at the thought. At first Klark was incredibly hurt that Lexa decided to cut her out completely, but now Klark’s hurt has festered into a vengeful anger.

Looking at the ceiling, Klark tries to stop unwanted tears; nothing about this situation makes sense. Lexa’s painful rejection has cut Klark so deep, Klark has spent the last couple of weeks mentally compartmentalizing away the pain. A trick that she has learnt from one of her mentors which has allowed her to feel less and less. The tears streaking down her face proves that she is not completely there yet, but it is Klark’s hope that one day the idea of Lexa will bring nothing but numbness. But if one positive thing has come from this, it’s that Klark’s detachment has made it easy to go through with Nia’s task.

Even though deep down Klark knows the Coalition still needs Lexa, Klark has become indifferent to who leads. Especially if Lexa doesn’t want her anymore. It will be much less painful being Azgeda’s future Queen if Klark must answer to her arrogant sister rather than someone she once, and probably will always, love. A sudden wave of rage washes over Klark. Grabbing for her newly purchased knife she embeds it deeply into the wood of the desk.

Klark’s two hands slam down in unison to her loud curses, “Fuck! fuck, fuck you!”

She exhales forcefully. Apparently, the attempts at compartmentalizing have been less affective than Klark thought.

“My, my, so much anger for such a little _Kwin_ ,” said a voice from the darkness of the shadows. One that doesn’t startle Klark as she remains with two hands tightly gripped around the corners of the desk.

“Ontari,” said Klark not even turning to the voice, “I never knew it was in Mother’s plans for you to arrive in Polis.”

“Well things have changed.” The sounds of Ontari’s footsteps along the room’s tiled floor stalk closer to Klark.

“How long have you been in Polis?” Klark wipes away the last evidence of tears before turning to her sister. Immediately Klark notices Ontari’s lack of black and white paint.

“Hmm give or take a week.”

“And you just make your presence known now?” Klark rolls her eyes, “What have you been doing? Does Echo know you are here?”

“No, no one does. Well that is a lie, someone has been helping me remain hidden.”

“You still haven’t answered the question. What have you been doing here?”

A wicked grin crosses Ontari’s face, “Well I just wanted to take time to observe _my_ new city without any interruptions. And it seems you have enjoyed yourself.” Ontari points to the merchandise sitting on Klark’s table.

“So, you’ve basically been spying on Echo and I?” Klark’s words hiss past her bared teeth.

Klark knows she is probably being a little more aggressive than she needs to be, but Ontari and Klark have never been close. Mostly due to Ontari’s apparent jealously of Klark’s status (something that has slightly subsided since the plan to make Ontari Commander commenced) and the constant competition to prove who the better warrior is.

Klark doesn’t hate her. Its just Klark has grown tired of watching Ontari’s twisted mind games and borderline psychopathic tendencies. But right now, Klark’s lack of patience is not due to her sister’s unannounced arrival. Rather being left in the dark about Nia’s sudden change of plans.

“If you would even call it spying. I just wanted to watch you. You know, to see if you are still up for mother’s task?”

“And?”

“You have passed, for now anyways. Mother was worried that your soft side would infiltrate Azgeda’s rise to power. But from what I can see you have been nothing but a ball of rage. So I am confident the beheading of Alexandra will go as planned. Speaking of all this gore, I hear you were quite the showpiece during the battle,” said Ontari as she wraps her arm around Klark in a meek side hug. “I’m sad I missed being part of the praise!”

“Of course, you do,” said Klark returning the slightly awkward embrace. “I must admit it was weird to fight without you and Demetri.”

“Oh yes, I heard that too. I’m sure mother won’t miss him anyways.”

Klark pulls herself from the hug, “How can you say that! He was our brother.”

“Yes, yes,” Ontari waves Klark off, “but he was mentally weak and not to mention always got into trouble. Besides, mother’s adoptive bloodline doesn’t matter now, does it? Once I am Commander and you set to be Azgeda’s future what use would Demetri be anyways?”

Klark clenches her jaw in frustration. Her sister’s lack of empathy is going to make her a terrible Commander. So Klark decides to change the subject.

“So, I am assuming Polis’ little rat has been feeding you information? And I also assume this rat is the one who has kept your stay a secret?”

Ontari laughs as she hits Klark in the shoulder, “You’re so funny Klark! Because he even looks like a rat. Such a fitting description for the ugly, bald man. His name is Titus.”

“The _Fleimkepa_?” Klark’s eyes widen at this new information. “You mean the Commander’s closest spiritual advisor?”

“Yes!” Ontari claps her hands together in excitement, “Isn’t it just beautiful? Alexandra’s most trusted ally is actually on our side.”

“How, when?” Even amongst all her hatred towards Lexa, the news is slightly disturbing. Klark even feels slightly sorry for Lexa for this huge betrayal. Lexa has always talked so highly of Titus, and this information would rattle Lexa to the core. But just as quickly as these thoughts come Klark puts a stop to her sympathy. She has a task to complete.

“When mother came to Polis to become the thirteenth, she had run into Titus at an event. Apparently, he was deeply upset that the Commander would allow herself to become once again weak and distracted by another love interest. So, like he had done to Costia, he desperately wanted to do something about Wanheda. And that’s when mother offered him a chance to work with her again. It was a solution he couldn’t resists and one that fit perfectly into Mother’s own plans.”

“Which was?”

“Remove Wanheda and begin grooming a new Commander. One that is much stronger than the fucking weak Alexan-.”

“Lexa is by no means weak!” Biting her tongue, Klark silently curses herself for the impulsive interruption. And from the horrified look on Ontari’s face, regret begins to weigh heavily on Klark for unintentionally coming to Lexa’s defense.

“Lexa? My, my such an interesting discovery. What would mother say if she learned that you and _Lexa_ are on nickname basis.” Ontari pulls her dagger from her belt and begins to twirl it in her fingers. “I heard the Commander likes to woo female whores. So I find it some what interesting that in all the time I have spent watching you, I have yet to see you even interact with her. Is that why you have been so broody Klark? Did _Lexa_ decide to leave you for her next whore?”

“Leave it alone Ontari!” Klark pushes her sister out of her space.

An over dramatized gasp escapes Ontari’s lips as she places a hand to chest.

“So the rumours Titus have caught wind of are true. The Commander’s weakness has returned once again during the campaign! You’re so pathetic Klark, I can’t believe you were stupid enough to fall for her tricks.”

Ontari hits Klark upside the head and continues with a mocking tone, “Did the mighty Commander tell you she loved the big bad wolf when she was screwing you too?” Ontari shoves Klark hard against the wall – an attack Klark doesn’t even bother defending. “Shit Klark, I bet if you got affection from a rock it would be enough to make you weak at your knees! All because of some tragic void in your chest from a stupid slaughtered village. That I should remind you, you can’t even remember!”

Once again Ontari pushes Klark into the wall. The force is strong enough to send the air rushing out of her lungs, but Klark still doesn’t fight back. It is not that Klark fears Ontari. If it came down to it, the battle would be in Klark’s favour. It’s just that Ontari’s words are hitting Klark in such a way Klark has become paralyzed. Almost like she has swallowed a vile of poison. 

“I am glad Mother had intuition to send someone sensible to see this mission through.” Ontari grabs Klark’s shirt pulling Klark closer to her face. “If you do not bring mother the Commander’s head, then I will do it myself! And after I slay the other night bloods in the conclave, I will finally have a higher power over you. Which means I can do whatever the hell I want!” Ontari pauses to catch her breath. But before she continues, she spits into Klark’s impassive face, “So I promise you this Klark, if you do not do what mother has commanded I will personally cut off Echo’s head and just like I did with those separatist rebels I will make you eat upon its flesh!”

Once again Ontari goes to strike Klark, but this time there is no contact. Grasping Ontari’s wrist, Klark flips her sister around and slams Ontari face first into the desk. Clutching a fistful of dark brown hair Klark pulls Ontari’s head back as black blood runs out of her injured nose. Leaning in closer, Klark whispers through bared teeth.

“And I promise you this Ontari, if you touch as much as a hair on Echo’s head, I will flay you alive. Just like _I_ _did_ with those separatist rebels.” Klark pulls back Ontari’s head further, an action that exposes many vital tendons. Meticulously Klark runs her sharp knife down the side of Ontari’s neck, peeling away a small section of skin. “And if you recall, I have mastered my flaying methods. So you won’t die from my knife work but from a painful infection days later.”

Klark releases her hold. Sending a shocked Ontari falling to the tiled floor. Wiping the knife clean, Klark slips it back into her belt. Reaching for the basin she had set out earlier, Klark dips her cloth into the now cold water. Looking to her sister she begins removing the black and white face paint. 

“I am glad we have come to a mutual understanding,” continues Klark smiling down at Ontari who is still holding the side of her neck in shock. “I will be completing mother’s task tonight, so you do not have to worry about getting your hands dirty. But just so you know, no one threatens Echo’s life and gets away with it. Not even you.”


	40. Natblida

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, hope all is well. I will be away this weekend for work, so Sunday's post will happen next week - sorry to keep you waiting! As always thanks for reading! LMS

**_KLARK_ **

Klark reaches for the ledge as she adjusts her footing. Pulling herself up she searches for her next hold. Scaling the outside of the Commander’s tower wasn’t her ideal plan, but it was the only way to ensure getting to the top floor undetected. Titus told Ontari that the stairwell to the upper floor is always heavily guarded, but the floor itself is practically empty from warriors. So he has arranged for a window to be propped open on the west wing. But getting there has proved to be a challenge. From the afternoon’s rain and lack of sun, the building is still very wet making the climb dangerously slippery.

Klark looks up and narrows her eyes. The path above is nearly concealed by the night’s darkness. Exhaling with slight exhaustion, Klark finds a sense of relief when she finally sees the faint outline of a white cloth hanging out from a window. Its slight tousle from the wind provides reassurance that the dull ache in her hands will soon subside once she reaches the window’s ledge. 

Once at the ledge Klark eagerly pulls herself up and slumps onto the floor. Drawing a breath into her lungs, she wipes the sweat off her forehead. The climb was much more grueling than she thought it would be and just needs a few seconds to catch her laboured breath. Underneath the moonlight’s glow, she can tell the room itself is nothing special. It seems big, but only contains a few pieces of furniture covered by white sheets. From the slight musty smell Klark concludes this room is rarely used. Which makes sense that Titus would choose this as an assassin’s entry point.

Standing up, Klark runs her hand along the wall, guiding herself towards wherever the door is. When the texture changes to wooden groves, Klark reaches down and slowly pulls the creaking door open. The long hallway is dimly lit by a line of torches. Which allow for much more visibility, but it is still dark enough that Klark can remain hidden in the shadows. If she remembers Titus’ direction correctly, Klark is at the end of the west wing. To get to her target she will need to get to the tower’s east wing. Something that shouldn’t be too hard for a stealth warrior like herself. Pulling up the hood of her cloak, Klark slips out of the room. But before she takes any steps East, a room across the hallway catches Klark’s attention.

The door itself has been boarded up as if whatever lays behind has been locked away forever. Klark knows there is no time to be distracted by such mysteries but cannot help but feel drawn towards the mystery of the blocked off room. Reaching out, Klark runs her hands along the boards. There’s something about this place that’s drawing her in. It’s a strange feeling and the curiosity of solving why she is drawn to the strange room overtakes her. Pulling out her sword Klark quietly begins to pry the boards back. The first board comes off with ease. A small smile lines her lips, not only is Klark thankful that whoever nailed these planks only put one nail in but also that she has the strength of an Illok metal sword. Especially since any other metal would probably bend from the weight of her leverage. 

Once enough boards have popped off, Klark slides her hand over the large door. Its carved design is incredibly beautiful and Klark finds it a shame that such a thing has been hidden for however long. Grabbing a torch off the wall, Klark slips over the remaining boards and enters the mysterious room.

Her suspicions are right. This room has been shackled for a long time as the overpowering smell of dust rushes to her nose. Using the torch as a guide, Klark’s breath catches at the scene before her. Underneath the dust, lies a room in absolute chaos. Contents that once had a proper place lie strewn haphazardly across the floor. Furniture that once stood upright lie over a variety of broken glass and other shattered objects. As she continues to walk around the room Klark gets a sense as to why such a place has been boarded up. Whatever the history is here, this room contains nothing but pain. A thought that stirs a deep sense of sadness within Klark. A very dark level of anguish would be needed to create such a destruction. 

Klark’s eyes fall to a painting hanging lopsided on the wall. Putting the torch in a holder, Klark reaches for the picture. Blowing off the dust Klark takes in the image. There the Commander stands proudly on the podium surrounded by her generals. Klark quietly laughs, whoever this artist was also thought Indra to be a scowling grump. Blowing away more dust, the rest of the painting comes alive.

On the steps before the Commander kneels a woman wearing a beautiful dress. The artist chose to not paint this woman’s face. But from the way this woman kneels as blonde hair cascades over her profile, Klark finds there is something oddly familiar about her. Feelings Klark does not dwell on for long as her eyes find familiar faces among the audience.

“General Beron, my has your hair greyed over the years,” said Klark quietly to herself. “And look at you Mother. As always, the look on your face is less than impressed. We should probably work on your resting expression. It appears you wanted to kill something.”

Klark laughs. As if her mother could ever look kind. Hanging the picture at a much straighter angle, Klark reaches for a leather-bound book laying on the floor. Opening the first page, Klark’s eyes fall to the name scribed into the top corner: _Griffin_.

Silently she says the name again. For some reason, this name feels awfully familiar. Klark snaps her fingers at her mental connection. Yes, that’s right. This is the same term Pike had used, but why is it in this book too? After some more thought, Klark puts the coincidence to rest and continues exploring pages as such mysterious can be solved tomorrow.

Flipping through the notebook, Klark’s jaw drops at the images etched onto the coarse paper. Like the painting, the detail is incredible. But what is most fascinating is that the only model drawn in this book is Lexa. Flipping the pages further, Klark finds a portrait of a ferocious looking Commander sitting on top her throne. The next image looks much different than the first. As Lexa stands with her usual stoicism in front many warriors. But even with her impassive features, Klark finds that the artist has drawn her in such a way a certain saddens has been captured in Lexa’s expression.

Klark flips the page again to find Lexa possessing a much different appearance as she lays covered by a pile of furs. The expression on Lexa’s face is much softer than the other images. It’s the side of Lexa so few get to see, the side that Klark found so easily to fall in love with. Klark slams closed the book with slight jealousy. Not that it matters now, but Klark feels envious that someone else has shared such an intimate moment with Lexa too.

Just as she is about to throw the book across the room Klark notices a _Trig_ phrase carved delicately into the leather, “ _For my sky princess.”_ Reading the words over, Klark’s eyes widen with realization. Her intuition has been confirmed. There is nothing but painful memories here and Klark doesn’t even have to guess who caused this chaotic destruction.

At that thought, Klark feels a wave of guilt wash over her. She may hate Lexa right now, but that doesn’t mean Klark has lost her compassion. Observing the aftermath of a moment that was probably so vulnerable, so heartbreaking for Lexa, Klark cannot help but feel ashamed she has seen a glimpse of the past without consent.

Looking around the room with a new set of eyes, Klark feels as if the walls are closing in around her. She is about to toss the notebook to the ground when she flips through the pages one last time. Klark sighs. Each page is too beautiful to be forgotten. Instead she slips the sketch book safely into the chest pocket of her cloak. Drawing in a breath, Klark knows it is finally time.

\----

When the sleeping darts are in full effect, Klark removes each dart and positions the two warriors in more of a natural position. Hopefully if another warrior is to walk by, this will draw less suspicion. 

Like Clarke’s room on the West wing, the carvings in this door are equally as beautiful. Turning the handle, Klark holds her breath as she slowly pushes the door open. The room itself is exquisite as a vast collection of candles provides enough light to illuminate a room perfectly fitting for someone as important as the Commander.

A large bed sits in the far corner that has a headboard remarkably similar to the design of the Commander’s throne. On the opposite site of the room there is a fireplace and a few sofas. Over the fireplace mantel hangs the painting Lexa had shown to Klark back in the Glowing forest territory. Klark still finds the Skaikru’s view of Earth breathtaking and knowing that Clarke had painted this, Klark concludes the other painting in the West Wing is probably Clarke’s too.

From her quick scan, Klark has yet to see signs of Lexa, but from the freshly stoked fire Klark knows she is here. The question is where. Klark pulls her knife from her belt. Quietly she walks through the common area until she gets to the Commander’s armory and bathroom. Klark presses her lips together, still no Lexa.

Out of the corner of her eye, Klark notices the entry to what seems like a large balcony. Tiptoeing closer, the flicker from an assortment of candles creates a dance like shadow at the balcony’s entrance. Following the trail of candles Klark finally finds her target. At the edge of the balcony, an oblivious Lexa stands staring down onto Polis’ evening torches. Klark bites her lip in an attempt to ease her racing heart. She can do this. Once close enough, Klark slings the knife around resting it on Lexa’s neck.

“Don’t you dare move,” said Klark in Lexa’s ear as she grabs the dagger on Lexa’s belt and tosses it to the ground.

“So this was Azgeda’s plan all along.” As ordered Lexa does not move, but the intensity of her breathing increases. “If you are going to do it, then just do it quickly.”

Klark scrunches her eyebrows. This dejected demeanour is not what she imagined would greet her. If anything, Klark expected Lexa to put up a good fight. But from the sound of Lexa’s deflated voice it doesn’t seem like such a thing will occur. In this current position Klark’s kill would be far too easy. All it would take is a flick of Klark’s wrist to slice deep into Lexa’s jugular. At the sudden thought of black blood being sprayed across the floor a surge of once compartmentalized emotions rush back through Klark. 

“Did you ever even love me?” Klark tightens her hold on the blade. Before Lexa can even answer Klark continues on, “Or am I just one of your whores that you’ve decided to throw away after I spread your legs. Not even having the decency to tell me to my face that you were tired of me?!”

“Never.” Lexa’s voice cracks slightly, but Klark is too angry to hear it.

“Never what? Never as in you never ever loved me? Or never as in you didn’t mean to reject me after I was so vulnerable with you!”

Slowly Lexa brings her hands to Klark’s wrist. Holding Klark’s hand steady Lexa turns to face Klark. Klark’s eyes widen at the sight. Just like Lexa’s voice, Lexa is nothing more than a haunted shell. Her emerald eyes lack the usual lustre as they sit deep into purple, sunken circles. Clear evidence of stress and many sleepless nights; but worst of all, out of the many faces Klark has seen on Lexa this one is the most chilling. 

“Never, as in I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Clenching her teeth, Klark presses the blade further into Lexa’s neck with enough pressure it breaks the skin. As Klark watches a trickle of black blood stains the collar of Lexa’s shirt. The sight of the blood brings an eerie sense of familiarity creeping in the corners of Klark’s mind. There is something about this moment that Klark feels like she has experienced before, but there is no time for such thoughts. Shaking her head for the brief loss of focus Klark looks back into Lexa’s dull eyes. 

“Stop lying to me.” Again Klark clenches her teeth, “Tell me Lexa, if I hadn’t come to slit your throat would you have even said goodbye?!”

“I am not sure if I could have.” Lexa’s eyes begin to well with tears as she leans further into the blade. An action that not only surprises Klark but opens the cut even more. “Because seeing you reminds me of what I have once lost and what I am about to lose to Azgeda once again.” Lexa pauses to collect herself, but her efforts are useless as warm tears begin to splash onto Klark’s hand. “Even as a winter wolf you will always be my _falling_ _star_. And over the past week I have realized I cannot deal with the pain it brings me knowing that you will never understand what that truly means. So do what you must Klark. I know if you don’t take my head tonight then Nia will take yours. And losing you twice is something I know I will not survive.”

Klark pulls back the pressure of the knife. She has no idea what riddles Lexa is telling her other than Lexa is willing to sacrifice her own life for Klark’s. How could Klark have been so stupid; if that is not love, Klark doesn’t know what is. Klark blinks away tears her throat tightens. She tries to formulate any sort of words. But before she gets a chance to try again, Lexa pushes back into the knife.

“Do it Klark!” Black blood starts to thickly coat Klark’s hand as Klark takes a step back, but with a sudden surge of intensity Lexa presses forward. “Klark, you need to focus. You can do this.”

Lexa keeps moving until she has Klark backed up against the wall. When the cool concrete meets Klark’s sweaty back, Klark realizes just how terrified she has suddenly become.

“I can’t.” Klark’s bottom lip trembles as hot tears streak down her face.

“Yes you can! The hate you had for me moments ago, find it again! I abandoned you remember?! Screwed you and rejected you like a whore!” Lexa’s face twists with slight agony at the weight of her own words. Klark can see what she is trying to do, but it is not working. Closing her eyes, Klark imagines dealing with the aftermath of Lexa’s headless corpse and instead of hatred a wave of nausea washes over her. 

“Do it Klark!” Lexa loses composure as she smacks her hand hard against the wall, “I said hate me Klark! Do it Klark, I deserve it!” 

Like she has been slapped in the face, Klark’s eyes snap open. Not because of the way Lexa’s voice has elevated with such distress but because deep in her mind Klark realizes this isn’t the first time she has heard this plea. But what has caused this déjà vu, Klark is uncertain. Thoughts Klark cannot dwell on further as the scene before her turns almost traumatizing.

“Lexa please stop! You’re going to kill yourself.” Tears streak down Klark’s face as she struggles to pull back the blade, but Lexa’s hands are too strong. “Lexa, I can’t watch this anymore, you need to stop. Please just make it stop!” 

Klark squeezes her eyes shut, but instead of darkness she finds herself standing in a forest. The trees are tall and leafy, so wherever her mind has taken her to escape it is not Azgeda. As Azgeda’s forests are much denser and instead of these vibrant colours, the leaves back home are sharp and needle like.

Klark runs her hands over the texture of her strange clothes. If she remembers correctly, it’s material similar to the outfit Hondo had provided her for her Skaikru disguise. Klark’s thoughts are cut short when an echoing grumble erupts from her stomach. When the next grumble is accompanied by a pain so excruciating Klark realizes just how hungry she is. Her sole focus is finding food. Desperately looking around for any sort of sustenance, Klark notices a pile of freshly washed roots sitting at the base of a tree. It’s not much, but it will do. Taking a step forward Klark’s weakened legs buckle from her under her weight and she crashes hard, headfirst into the dirt.

When Klark rises, there is no more forest, but a burning village surrounded by a suffocating cloud of smoke weighing heavy in the air. Grabbing at her ears Klark tries to stop the high-pitched sound from ringing through her head, but it is no use. The noise doesn’t stop. Klark rubs her eyes to focus in on the once standing village and still through the carnage of flames Klark finds whatever this place is to be very familiar. In her disorientated state Klark looks to a woman lying face down in the dirt. There is something about this woman that pulls Klark in. And even with all the chaos around her, Klark just needs to know if this woman is okay. Reaching out Klark goes to touch her shoulder, but as soon as Klark makes contact the world goes black.

“You need to do it.” Lexa’s pained whisper pulls Klark back from wherever her mind has taken her. The visions, or perhaps they are hallucinations, are like fragmented snippets of a scrambled puzzle. Klark does not recognize what her mind has shown her. But does find a strange familiarity in the emotions each place has provoked. Opening her teary eyes, Klark sees how like herself, Lexa has become completely distraught. Gripping the knife firmly, Klark uses every ounce of her strength to free it from Lexa’s hands. The black blood, however, is like oil and as Klark pulls back she and the knife slip right out from Lexa’s grasp. The momentum sends Klark flying to the ground.

Dirt swirls up around Klark as exhaustion burns heavy in her lungs. 

“In battle a warrior who falls is as good as dead! You should also remember that a warrior will also die if they fall on their own weapon!” said an impatience voice as two hands pull Klark up to her feet. “The next time you fall my clumsy little _seken_ , be sure to know where your dam blade is!” Turning around Klark is completely shocked to see General Anaya impatiently tapping her foot. “Well? Are you just going to stand there with that dumb look on your face or are you going to show me what you have learned?”

Klark looks at her sword. From the blunt edge Klark can tell that this is a training blade. And before Klark can think much of it, Anya’s sword swings towards her. Klark blocks the attack, but barely. The force from the impact is strong enough to send her spinning off balance. When it’s Klark’s turn to strike frustration flows through her veins. For the movements she has spent years mastering and memorizing in Azgeda are not connecting with her arms. Her attack against General Anya is nothing but an awkward flail. It is as if this version of Klark has no idea how to yield a blade. Klark’s frustration furthers when the impact of her attack sends her own sword flying to her feet. Shaking her hand, Klark tries to rid herself of the painful vibrations the clash of metal has caused.

“Remember, if you would grip it like a sword and not a paint brush you wouldn’t have this problem!” Anya jokes.

Picking up her sword, Klark goes for a quick, yet feeble attack. Something the General is well prepared for. Easily blocking Klark’s swing Anya retaliates by hitting Klark in the face with the blunt end of her sword’s pommel. Taking a step back in shock, the sparring ring blurs into a sea of stars.

The world around her is black and as Klark tries to move she realizes she is paralyzed. As if her body has been laid in cement, she is a captive to this darkness, and it is terrifying. Klark screams for help, but there is nothing but silence. From the lack of response from the outside world she is either alone or like the rest of her body, her voice is frozen too. Klark’s chest tightens as a tingling sensation rushes up from the tips of her fingers. But just as Klark’s anxiety is almost at its peak, a cool cloth rests on her forehead.

“Nyko worries for you.” Before the nervous voice continues, a hesitant touch places a piece of Klark’s hair back behind her ear. “He is concerned the time you have spent finding your solitude has made you much too weak to wake up from the berry’s poison.” 

The voice pauses for a few minutes before the sound of a muffled cry fills the quite room.

“I command the entire ground, but even with such power your fate is out of my control and I’m terrified. My future would be so dark without the light of my _falling_ _star_ , so you need to be strong my Skai Princess. If not for me, then please do it for your people. They need you; the ground needs you, and as selfish as it makes me, I need you.” A forehead gently rests on Klark’s and even in her paralysis like state Klark can feel the tickle of warm tears splashing onto her own cheeks. “So please, find the strength I know you have and wakeup Clarke.”

“Klark?” Lexa’s tired voice is somewhere in the distance, but Klark is nothing but frozen from the shattered like memories. “Your arm, it’s bleeding. I think you hit the corner of the table when you fell. It’s a good gash, but I don’t think we will have to stitch it. Can you get up?”

Klark once again cannot speak. Her throat is tightened in such a way her tongue sits heavy in place as if it were swollen three times its normal size. What her mind has showed her may not be a recognizable memory, but the way each scene has made Klark feel makes her certain that these memories once belonged to her.

“ _My falling star,”_ silently Klark replays the words as a connection she has never made before snaps into place. A rush of emotions Klark never thought to be possible slam into her from every direction. Klark has no plausible explanation of what has just occurred. Other than the stress of watching a blade against Lexa’s neck was somehow so traumatic, fragments of broken memories momentarily fused back together before evaporating back into the depths of Klark’s damaged mind. Besides the short snippets she has just witnessed, Klark still cannot remember anything past her life in Azgeda. But that doesn’t mean these glimpses of the past hasn’t allowed her to finally piece together who she really is.

All at once Nia’s lies are dragged one by one into the light. Their claws dig in, trying to keep themselves hidden away in the shadows but it is no use. Klark has gained too much knowledge to not know the truth. As she continues to piece things together it is as though her chest has been ripped wide open. Nia’s secrecy, the over protectiveness, the paint over Klark’s face, the dyed hair, have been nothing more than Nia’s ploy to conceal who Klark once was. But worst yet, who she once belonged too. It’s ironic, but instead of killing Lexa tonight, Klark has killed the very person she believed herself to be.

“Klark, you’ve gone pale!” Still bleeding from her own wound, Lexa positions Klark against the wall. “Here let’s get something on that cut.” Lexa looks around, when she doesn’t find what she is looking for Lexa removes her top layer and rips it into strips. Still in a dazed like state, Klark barely feels Lexa’s touch wrapping Klark’s bleeding arm.

“Klark?” Lexa looks with concern, but Klark continues to stare to the opposite wall. Her mind is a sea of confusion and she is drowning among its waves.

“I’m so sorry.” Klark whispers as more tears soak her skin.

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you to do such a thing.”

“No, it is mine,” said Klark as she takes a sip from the cup Lexa holds to her trembling lips. “It’s my fault and I am so sorry that it has taken me this long to separate the facts from the truth.” Klark notices how Lexa’s concerned expression morphs into one of confusion. Before Lexa can speak, Klark continues, “I am not really Klark kom Azgeda am I.”

“No.” Lexa inhales a shaky breath, “You are a princess, but not one born to the ice...”

“But to the sky,” said Klark finishing Lexa’s sentence

“Yes.” Lexa joins in on Klark’s tears as she reaches for Klark’s clammy hand. “You are Clarke kom Skaikru.”

Klark already knew the answer, but there is something about hearing the verbal confirmation that makes everything feel even more painfully real. Once again, emotions she never thought existed carve deep into her chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“The morning after we spent the night together, I had seen your face and truthfully I thought it was a dream. I felt so guilty that I had slept with you only to dream about Clarke. I was so ashamed, but just before the clans disbursed Anya confirmed it wasn’t a dream at all.”

“Which explains why you couldn’t even look at me that day. Or why you have been refusing my audience.” Klark softly laughs as she moves between Lexa’s legs, leaning herself up against Lexa chest. “And here I thought it was because my performance was not good enough for the great Commander.”

“Never.” Lexa places a light kiss on the top of Klark’s head. “I just couldn’t deal with the truth, and honestly it is still very hard to comprehend it all.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

“That I may never remember my life as Clarke.”

“No. I fell in love with both a fallen star and the winter wolf. Whoever you decide to be is your choice. You will always be my _keryon soujon_ and I will love you in this world and the next. _”_

Lexa’s words make Klark’s chest become heavy with the weight of reality. She may have once been Clarke, but that doesn’t change the fact Klark is still charged with Nia’s task.

“I am scared Lexa.”

“I know; truthfully, I am too.”

“I know what needs to be done, but I am not sure I will have the strength to do it. All I know is my life as Klark, so I feel like it’s only right that my loyalty resides with Azgeda, but that doesn’t mean I am not terrified.”

“You have always been smart Klark, so I know that whatever you choose will be the right choice.” Lexa squeezes her legs tighter around Klark in reassurance.

“Even after all these years of doubting, it appears Azgeda’s prophecy does have some truth to it.”

“Which is?” questions Lexa.

“A betrayal,” said Klark as she reaches for her knife. 


	41. A Fulfilled Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thanks for the patience, here is today's chapter. I hope everyone is having a good week. As always, thanks for reading.

* * *

**When the stars turn to dust;**

**A winter wolf will crawl from the ice.**

**As the sun loses its light;**

**Four giants will breathe new life.**

**When the howl turns to flames;**

**Betrayal will scorch corruption from the earth.**

**But out from the ashes, Azgeda will rise.**

* * *

**_KLARK_ **

Klark looks towards the gates of Azgeda’s capital. In other circumstances she would be happy to see her home, but considering the events over the past days Klark only feels hatred for what its Queen has made her do.

Klark’s fingers squeeze around the wooden crate. The crate itself has yet to leave her side since her small Azgeda party hurried out of Polis. The guards offered to carry it, but Klark refused. It was her kill and she couldn’t bring herself from being separated from it. The journey hasn't been as warm as it could have been. Which is a small blessing seeing how the crate’s bottom corners have now become stained and saturated with black blood.

“I’m so sorry.” Klark whispers under her breath as she runs her fingers along the wooden edges. “We both know it was the only way.”

Klark has beheaded many people before, but this time it was different. It was personal. Out of all the kills Klark has committed, she knows she will never be able to escape this one. Klark closes her eyes. Immediately the sound of her sword cutting through bone is followed by the thud of a dismembered body falling to the ground. It will be a haunting memory that will chase her spirit in this life and the next.

“My Kwin!” One of her warriors shouts as he points to the growing crowd, “The city celebrates your return!”

“Well let’s not keep them waiting.” Klark encourages her horse to increase his pace. Looking to Echo, Klark clears her throat to get her sister’s attention. “You are quiet Echo. Are you sure you are okay with continuing as planned? If you are having any second thoughts, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Non-sense Klark. I am just getting focused.” Echo reaches over and taps the top of the box. “Besides, I did promise I would have your back no matter what. Right?”

“Thank you Echo, your loyalty will never be forgotten. Do you think mother is going to be happy to see us?”

“Well seeing what you have brought her, I think she’s probably pacing around her throne with anticipation.”

“Yes, it’s best we don’t keep her waiting.”

\---

“ _Kwin_ Klark.” A warrior positioned in front of Nia’s throne room nods. “Welcome home, Azgeda has missed your presence.”

“As have I. Seeing other lands has been a treat, but there is nothing like coming home to the cold.”

The two doors open slowly under the immense weight. Turning to Echo for one last reassurance, Echo nods giving Klark the encouragement she needs. Inhaling deeply Klark tries to still her beating heart as she steps over the threshold. Without a further moment, the heavy doors shut her in the large, cold room.

“So the winter wolf finally has returned!” Nia’s voice booms as if full of pride, “how was the journey my child? Beorn tells me Azgeda put on quite the show. I hear you and Echo have caused many whispers to ripple throughout the clans?!”

“It was well. And yes, you have heard correct.” Klark sets the crate down at the base of stairs below Nia’s throne. Wiping clean her hands she finds a chair before continuing, “I believe Azgeda has finally earned the respect we deserve.”

“I expected nothing less.” Nia looks towards the stained crate as a wicked smile crosses her lips. “And I see you have brought me a gift?”

“Of course, when my Queen gives me a task, I complete it.” Klark gestures towards the gift, “I will admit she didn’t go down as easy as I had thought, but thanks to all your training I have delivered what was promised.”

“You have done well my little wolf. Titus has assured me he will send word as soon as Ontari wins the conclave. In fact, I suspect his riders will not be far behind you. I assume we will hear of her success within seven sunrises. Do you know what this means Klark?”

“Azgeda holds the power of the flame.”

“Yes, but there is so much more my child.” Nia rises from her throne and walks down towards Klark’s chair. Placing one hand on Klark’s shoulder Nia uses the other to point animatedly towards the south. “This marks the fulfilment of Azgeda’s prophecy, do you remember the last line my wolf?”

Klark nods, “But out from the ashes, Azgeda will rise.”

“Yes! And Azgeda has risen! With Ontari as the rightful Commander and you by my side, no clan will dare defy our new world. All my energy has gone into seeing this moment come to fruition and here we are. Tonight, I will boil my gift clean and tomorrow I will finally drink the finest of Polis’ wine from Alexandra’s skull!” 

“It will be a celebration indeed,” said Klark with an equally wicked smile, even though deep down inside the thought of passing around Lexa’s skull as a prized chalice makes her stomach turn. But Klark does not dare let Nia see her reservations. “Can I speak freely mother?”

“Of course, Klark, anything you want it is yours.”

Klark runs her hand over her weapon belt before getting the courage to deter the direction of the conversation.

“All my life I spent helping you see the prophecy to its completion, but never have we discussed what you thought it meant? In your opinion did everything that was prophesied come true?”

“A very interesting question Klark,” Nia runs her hand under her chin in thought. “But yes, I think everything written has happened in some way. You are obviously the winter wolf who crawled from the ice after the Skaikru fell and slaughtered your village. And I have always believed that my _Bloka_ have represented the four giants.” Nia pauses to collect her thoughts as her icy laugh fills the hall. “And of course, thanks to you the betrayal now sits at my feet!”

“So, the betrayal was me betraying the Coalition by killing the Commander?” Klark reaches into her shirt and pulls out a chain with a brass key. Pulling the chain free from her neck, Klark passes over the crate’s key as Nia’s hands greedily accept it.

“Yes, in a sense. But remember from the ashes of this betrayal you have allowed a new Azgeda to rise!” With excitement, Nia stalks over to the crate and eagerly twists the key in its lock. “Do you agree with my interpretation Klark?”

As Nia opens the gift, Klark stands and reaches down to her weapon belt. Before Klark can answer, Nia’s gasp fills the hall.

“You bitch!” Nia’s voice bounces off the stone walls. “What have you done. Gau-” Before Nia can shout for her guards, Klark embeds a dagger deep into Nia’s bicep. Dropping to her knees Nia grabs her arm in shock as her voice hisses passed bared teeth, “What have you done you little whore! I will have you hacked into pieces and then thrown into the bear pits! Guards! Guards!”

Klark throws another dagger into Nia’s other arm. Nia may be an old woman, but she is still a great warrior who shouldn’t be underestimated. It is best to not take any risks.

“Your cries for guards are useless Nia, Echo and General Beron have ensured to that. And I heard it wasn’t hard to convince them either as it seems our people have decided there is more to life than living in fear. But now is not the time to discuss our different ruling styles, but rather I think it is my turn to interpret our prophecy.” Klark feels her eyes steel over as she walks towards the crate. Kicking it to its side, the rotting heads of Ontari and Titus roll out stopping at Nia’s knees. “I do agree that I am the winter wolf, but I am also the star that turned to dust.”

"No! It can't be," Nia gasps as her eyes widen with apparent realization at the weight of Klark’s words. Just as Nia goes to speak again, Klark holds a knife to Nia’s lips.

“Uh ah. I’m not finished mother; there is no use defending your lies.” With her foot Klark pushes Ontari’s head closer to Nia for additional emphasis, “Here is the betrayal. With a swipe of my sword I betrayed both you and my sister. I wasn’t lying when I said she didn’t go down without a fight. I even have a new scare to prove it.” Klark pats at her torso, “Ontari was my sister and even in her darkness I still loved her, but like you she was nothing more than a psychopath that needed to be stopped.”

Klark reaches into her pocket and pulls out a pair of steel clamps making Nia’s eyes widen further as Nia’s favourite torture device twirls in Klark’s hands.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Is that so? Thanks to all your teachings I am capable of many things. Just as you had me taught, I flayed Titus alive. You would have been proud; I believe he was one of my finest works. I removed the skin just so I think he would have survived long enough to be dragged back to Azgeda, but Lexa wouldn’t allow it. She wanted to be merciful. So like Ontari, it was only his treacherous head that rode back with me.”

“Klark I am your mother! Because of me you have this life, you are only who you are because of my devotion to you. Stop this nonsense now and all will be forgiven.” Realizing the weight of her situation, Nia’s usual cold demeanour morphs into one of desperation, but Klark is not allowing herself to empathize with such tricks. She's been fooled far too long. 

“You will never be my mother.” Klark spits in insult into Nia’s face. “You have taken too much away from me and I hate that I've allowed myself to be your pawn. You have stolen my life as a star and for that I will never forgive you.”

“Azgeda will never accept a Skaikru bitch as their queen!”

“If that is their will, then I will willingly pass the crown to Echo. But you are right about one thing; a new Azgeda has risen Nia. No longer will our people live in fear of its ruler.” Klark leans in closer to Nia so her voice is nothing but a mere whisper. “But you and I both know when our people learn the truth, they will be nothing but honoured that both Wanheda _and_ the _Wintam Pakstoka_ rules their throne. And I think I speak for all when I say the world has had enough of your lies.”

Before Nia can defend herself, Klark rams the clamps into Nia’s mouth breaking a few teeth in the process. As Nia kicks with her legs, Klark struggles to grab Nia’s tongue but after a slight struggle for control, Klark finally grips onto the muscle. Exposing most of the tongue Klark swiftly swipes her blade and dismembers it from Nia’s mouth. Instantly a gush of blood splatters across the stairs and onto Klark’s face.

“Goodbye Nia, I hope the crows enjoy the taste of your rotting flesh,” said Klark as she kicks Nia onto her back. As the usurped queen begins to drown from her own blood, Klark cannot bring herself to watch. Nia may be a monster, but that doesn't mean Klark doesn't find the death of her adoptive mother unsettling. 

“Guards!” orders Klark and immediately the room fills with warriors whose eyes all widen at the sight. “Take Nia away! Like she has done to many of our own loved ones, throw her into the bear pits. And do not worry about muffling her screams, her voice will no longer be a problem.” Klark gestures towards a few others, “Send for the scriber! Messengers are to leave to twelve clans by nightfall. You, bring me a basin of water and a cloth. No longer will I hide my face from my people.” Klark raises her voice to address the growing crowd. “Tonight, we feast in celebration! A new Azgeda has risen and no longer will we live under the shadow of fear!”

“Long live Queen Klark!” The chant erupts throughout the hall as Klark takes in their words.

With a prideful smile, General Beorn takes Klark’s bloodied hand. Squeezing it slightly he nods to his new queen. 

“The decades spent under Nia’s rule has casted Azgeda into nothing but darkness. But as the ashes of today settle, I believe our people can once again be filled with hope as they look up to a bright star for guidance.” As if he was Klark’s father, Beorn places a loving kiss on top of Klark’s head and kneels to her level. “I do not deserve your forgiveness from my past mistakes, but if you will allow it, I promise I will protect you until my last breath.”

Klark is taken aback from the way Beorn’s eyes become glossy with tears. Not once has she seen the General show such emotion and from this display Klark knows he means every word.

“Thank you Beorn for acknowledging our history. But the past is the past and I assure you, you are forgiven. I would be honoured to have your wise council at my side.” Klark pulls the large warrior back to his feet, but it's surprising when his calloused hand does not let go of hers. Instead Beorn gently guides her up the stairs to the large throne.

Never has Klark sat on this throne but when she takes a seat, she cannot help but feel a new burden of responsibility rest itself heavily on her shoulders. Thousands and thousands of people are officially her responsibility. Looking to her sister for support, Echo’s smile beams from ear to ear.

“A Queen is not a Queen without her crown,” said Echo as she holds out a silver crown. The crown is much different than the one Nia had worn. Instead of bone, its elegant design is lustrous as a vast collection of diamonds have been embedded into its silver. And when Echo brings it closer, it catches the light in such a way it looks as if Echo is holding a crown of ice.

Bowing, Echo places the crown on top of Klark’s head. It is a perfect fit and once again Klark feels a new weight of responsibility surge through her veins. This is the moment she has been groomed for as long as she can remember. But from the way she feels now, she can tell that no amount of Nia's training has prepared her for this kind of responsibility.

Bowing again, Echo takes her new place at Klark’s right and shouts out to the growing crowd, “Long live Queen Klark, Azgeda’s Winter Wolf, and the Commander of death itself!”


	42. The Thirteen Clans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, so this is it! I can’t believe this is the last chapter. I just wanted to say a thanks to every single one of you who took the time to read my first ever attempt at writing. It has meant so much! 
> 
> Since this is the last chapter I know there’s some storylines that have not got the attention or closure some of you have wanted. I mentioned in an earlier post that I am working on one shots. So if there was a character line you wanted more from, let me know :) 
> 
> As well, I am secretly working on a prequel for Klark's origins because I want to bring Azgeda's winter wolf more depth. And who wouldn't want to read more about crazy Nia. As for a sequel, that is something I'm not ruling out. So if you have any ideas of what that could look like, also let me know.
> 
> Once again, thanks everyone for your support and one last time in this segment - thanks for reading LMS.

**_Six months later_ **

**_LEXA_ **

“Lexa?” Anya’s voice interrupts Lexa’s concentration.

“I’m over here.” Lexa is relieved for the interruption as she pushes her maps aside. She has spent much of the morning reviewing the new trade routes, but she still feels ill prepared for tomorrow’s Advisor meeting. Turning to Anya, Lexa’s voice is much more eager than she should let herself be but seeing as it is just Anya in the room she doesn’t care, “Any news?”

“Yes, this just arrived.” Anya holds out a large, wrapped parcel. “Should I get a nail so we can hang it up with the others?” 

“Please.” Lexa excitedly takes the package. Setting it on the table her impatient hands can barely contain her delight as she pulls open the protective wrapping. Once opened, Lexa turns the frame around to reveal a painting of Arkadia’s Metal structures surrounded by the green hills. Smiling down on the artwork, Lexa decides this one is as beautiful as the other eleven she has already received.

“Arkadia?” Anya cranes her neck over Lexa’s shoulder, “I thought you were going to use Clarke's picture of space to represent the Skaikru clan?”

“I was, but then when I received Sankru’s mural I wrote back to Klark and told her I couldn’t part with taking Earth down from the mantel. I requested that if she found time during the Skaikru’s visit she would paint me something else.”

“Well it is beautiful; it will sure compliment the others.” Anya gestures towards the wall of paintings.

When Klark became Queen, she had decided to travel to the twelve clans to introduce herself as Azgeda’s new Queen. An action that is not traditionally done by leaders. Truthfully Lexa had no idea Klark had been planning on doing such a thing until the first painting arrived.

It was a painting of Broadleaf’s white sands and strange trees overlooking the stretching ocean. The painting had been accompanied by a note that read: _“You already have Blue Cliff’s mountains and Skaikru’s skies, so here is Broadleaf’s beaches. In a few weeks I hope to send you another. Please be safe, I love you.”_

Of course, Lexa was immediately filled with worry that Klark was traveling the Coalition. But Anya reassured Lexa with good reports as other paintings begun to arrive. Apparently not one clan took ill to Klark, which doesn’t necessarily surprise Lexa. Klark is likeable. And with Nia out of the picture, Azgeda has become immensely more trusted.

“There.” Anya places the painting of Arkadia on the wall with the others. “It’s perfect, now all you need is Azgeda and your mural is complete.”

Looking at the wall, Lexa agrees. It is perfect. Now when she sits on her throne, she will always feel connected to her thirteen clans.

“Was there word about Klark’s campaign coming to Polis after Arkadia?” said Lexa nervously as she plays with the hem of her shirt.

“No, I am sorry Lexa. Apparently, there was some sort of emergency and I believe Klark had to go back North.”

“Oh.” Lexa tries to suppress her disappointment. The last time she has seen Klark was six months ago when Klark was still just the heir and Lexa was secretly hoping Klark would be able to visit Polis too.

“But this also came with the painting.” Anya reaches into her pocket and pulls out a letter. Once again Lexa cannot grab it fast enough. Turning the letter around, Lexa removes the waxy seal of Azgeda’s symbol and begins to read her Klark’s words.

_“Out of all the clans, I think the Skaikru visit has been the most interesting and perhaps emotional. The Skaikru were prepared for a visit from Azgeda’s new Queen, but they were not prepared from a visit from Clarke. In fact, the Chancellor, or I guess she is technically my mother, fainted when she welcomed my party at the gates. (So I am only going to say this once, but yes, you were right. In retrospect I should have let Anya break the news to them. But you know how complicated the situation was. I wanted to make sure a civil war wouldn’t start when the Skaikru and Azgeda learned the truth.)_

_Anyways the other Skaikru were shocked too. In fact, I think I spent the whole time being stared at as if I were a ghost and I guess in a sense I am. Octavia, had been ecstatic when I agreed to a spar. She is a very good warrior, stubborn and determined. So I see why Indra has taken a liking to her over the years. Then I met the other Blake sibling, Bellamy. When he saw me, he held me for what felt like hours crying. We had a good talk. He told me his biggest regret in life has been that he left Polis without making amends with me when I was still Clarke. My ‘death’ damaged him, but after the tears our conversation turned to laughs as he told me all about my life as Clarke - and from the sounds of it he and I were quite the team. But most importantly I think he’s finally going to turn his life back around. Over our visit I also noticed that he took a strong liking to Echo too. I think she likes him back because she was quite happy when he asked if he could come back with us to Azgeda. I think it will be good for him, plus if he was my once my best friend, I look forward to rekindling our lost relationship._

_Then there was Raven. Her greeting was the least dramatic as she claimed, ‘I new it all along!’ followed by, ‘I guess this explains that kiss’._

Lexa’s eyes narrow at the memory of Klark and Raven dancing, but quickly recoils her jealously when she reminds herself that Raven is not a threat. Looking back down, Lexa continues to read.

_I will be honest when I was walking through Arkadia it was almost unsettling. I kept thinking how if things turned out differently this would be my home, or I guess my normal. I think I will always have a soft spot for the Skaikru, but I am not sure I will ever again feel a part of the sky. Perhaps in time I will come to accept myself as both ice and sky, but for now Azgeda’s throne is where I belong._

_I will send another letter once I make it safely back home. I hear the snow is growing so I don’t want to worry you, but do not be surprised if it takes longer than usual to receive word. My heart aches for you and I am counting down the days until spring when Azgeda comes to Polis for the solstice. Until then, please be safe and as always,_

_I love you._

_p.s:_

_My little shadow wanted me to tell you how thankful she is to you for letting her come back to Azgeda with me. I know her scouting abilities will be missed in Polis. But I promise, like she once looked out for me many years ago, I will look out for her. Afterall, she is the little sister I never had.”_

Lexa blinks away tears as she tucks the letter safely in her pocket. She knew the separation from Klark would be painful, but she hadn’t prepared herself for this much pain.

“I hadn’t realized my words were so moving.”

Lexa’s head shoots up at her favourite voice.

“Klark?!” It has only been six months, but Lexa can tell Klark has already changed. Instead of the faux red locks, a shimmering crown sits on top golden strands that are twisted into a complex set of braids. Not only has the pattern changed, but the length of Klark’s hair is much longer than Lexa remembers and falls much further down her back. As Klark nears, Lexa cannot help but notice how she carries herself differently. Not in arrogance by any means but possesses a stride that holds a certain confidence or perhaps it is one of new importance. Regardless, Klark is nothing but beautiful and once again Lexa is overcome with emotion. “I…I thought Anya said there was an emergency?”

“Yes, but I sent Echo and General Beron to deal with it. It was nothing that they couldn’t handle.” said Klark brushing away Lexa tears. “Besides, I couldn’t wait until the solstice to see you. Are you able to clear your duties for the day?”

“Absolutely.” The trade routes hold no importance now. Anything Lexa has not yet prepared will have to wait until tomorrow. 

“Come, let’s go take a bath. I know its only noon, but I am exhausted.”

Taking Klark’s hand, Lexa’s heart jumps with excitement. Usually Lexa hates surprises, but out of all the things that could have happened today, Lexa would take this surprise any day.

\---

Lexa silently curses the sunrise as its light begins to make its way into her the room. Normally Lexa loves the mornings, but the rising sun means that Klark will soon be leaving her. At the thought Lexa squeezes her arms protectively around Klark’s naked frame. Lexa doesn’t want Klark to go but knows she must. Just like Lexa, Klark has a duty to her people and now that she is Queen, her presences in Azgeda is even more important than before.

Over the last six months there has been many days Lexa has felt sorry for herself knowing she and Klark will never live a normal life together in this realm. But as quickly as those thoughts come, Lexa always reminds herself that she and Klark will have eternity together. If it is not in this life, then perhaps in the next life the spirits will allow Klark to spend every day by Lexa’s side. A thought that always brings Lexa much comfort.

Lexa’s fingers trail along Klark’s back only to stop at Klark’s ribcage. Circling around the new tattoo, Lexa looks at the cogwheel design of the Commander’s symbol. Last night, Klark wanted to get her bonding tattoo redone, but seeing as she is now a Queen, Klark couldn’t have such a symbol openly displayed. Especially since most clans are still unaware of their relationship, but that will be another problem for tomorrow. Right now, Lexa wants to savour this moment.

“Is it first light already?” Klark yawns as she stretches under Lexa’s touch. “It feels like I just got to sleep.”

“Probably because we did.” Lexa moves in to kiss Klark. The smell of Klark's hair brings a rush of emotions and is something Lexa wants to remember forever. “Someone was very eager last night. I think the Ice Queen has missed me.”

“I think you’re right.” Klark returns the kiss before sliding off the bed. Lexa’s bottom lip pouts out from the loss of warmth, but knows if Klark doesn’t start getting ready, they will stay locked up in this bed forever. Which is something both leaders cannot afford to do. Instead, Lexa occupies herself by memorizing the details of Klark’s silhouette. Eyes trace down Klark’s neck, along the elegant curve of her spine, and down to the soft skin of Klark’s backside. Lexa feels the heat of a blush as Klark turns to grab her clothes. Out of all the people on the ground Klark is by far the most beautiful and she belongs to Lexa.

“Be sure to blink Lexa, I would hate for your eyes to dry.” Klark laughs as slips on the last of her clothes. Once her crown is placed back on top her head, Klark tosses Lexa a robe. “Here put this on, I have something for you before I go.” Klark disappears around the corner only to come back with another large canvas. “There might be another reason I didn’t have much sleep last night.”

Lexa takes the painting and flipping it around her breath catches in her lungs, “Klark, it’s beautiful.”

Her eyes travel across the canvas. The landscape and its trees are covered with fluffy white snow as hills roll into a deep valley. At the bottom of the valley sits a frozen lake. The sheet of ice glimmers in such a way from the sun’s light. Like many areas of the Coalition, it is a sight Lexa has only seen a couple times in person, but because this is the place her heart lives this picture will be by far the most treasured.

“The last painting. Thank you Klark.”

“I couldn’t leave without completing your mural. Besides, I would hate to have Chester think the Commander does not like Azgeda.”

“Soon I think we will have to worry about the other clans thinking the exact opposite.” Lexa laughs as she sets the painting on her bed. Turning back to Klark, Lexa takes Klark’s hands into her own as the moment she has been dreading is here. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t either.” Klark blinks away growing tears. “I want nothing more than to abandon my throne and run away with you, but I know that is not the answer.”

“Perhaps stay a little longer?” Lexa’s eyes too begin to fill with tears at the thought of separating once again from Klark. “We could go to the lake, or perhaps go for a hunt?”

“My heart wants nothing more, but my head knows I cannot.” Pulling Lexa’s hands towards her lips, Klark places soft kisses on top of Lexa’s trembling knuckles. “Maybe someday you and I will owe nothing more to our people, but until then always know that there will not be a minute that goes by that I do not think of you.”

“I don’t think I am strong enough Klark.” Lexa’s voice cracks under the sudden flow of tears. “Just look at me, I cannot even bring myself to say goodbye.” 

“I find goodbyes are the hardest,” said Klark in familiar words Lexa herself had once spoken to Klark many months ago. Klark presses her lips together as she runs her thumbs along the golden bracelet attached to Lexa’s wrist. “You are strong Alexandra kom Trikru. You are Commander of our people and I am so fortunate to have someone like you as my wife.”

Klark pulls Lexa in for a kiss, one that Lexa eagerly reciprocates. If time could stand still, now would be the moment. When Klark finally finds the strength to step back Lexa’s lip starts to tremble once again.

“May we meet again Lexa.”

“And may the Old Warrior provide you a safe journey North. I love you so much my Klark.”

“I love you too.” Klark quickly presses a kiss on Lexa’s wet cheek before turning towards the door. With every step Klark takes away from her, Lexa cannot stop the rush of emotions as it feels as though her heart is being pulled out further from her chest.

“Klark?!”

“Yes?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to see your beauty on last time.” Lexa bites her lip in an attempt to stop another round of tears, “but this time, you better come back to me.”

**\- THE END -**


End file.
